From Me, To You
by sweetangel014
Summary: She was left with a broken heart by a man she loves. He was a serious young man who fights for Patria, seeing all else as a distraction. She was a walking contradiction of sorts while he has set his life for his goals with a stubborn love for his cause. When times had turned for the worst, an unlikely friendship will bloom between the student and a gamine. Five reviews per chapter.
1. Beginning

A/N: My first Les Mis fic although I've been in love with that book since elementary xD The model I'm using for all cast were from the movie. I will also use the movie's timeline instead of the play's/book's. Hope you will enjoy this.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper.

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**From Me To You**

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A young woman inhaled the chilly night air, her whole body shivered with the bitter cold as she watched the moon, noticing the absence of stars in the sky.

"Are you on your own as well?" she asked straight to the pearly orb. All too aware that it would never answer her question. Slowly, she felt in her pocket the little note that Cosette had left for Marius. Torn and burning with utmost jealousy, Eponine had thought of ripping the said paper and let it fly with the wind so that Marius will never see her again. The thought was appealing but then... seeing Marius heartbroken would just make her even more heartbroken, like an empathic link she shared with the Pontmercy that strengthened their bond as best friends. That, and it would make her feel terribly guilty to see him experience the tragedy of unfulfilled love. Eponine wanted to laugh at the cruel irony that the once unfortunate Cosette that she teased a lot as a child now caught the eye and heart of the man she craved to love her. An eye for an eye, she guessed.

Another breezed passed and it made her feel as if it intentionally passed through her body, through her soul. The people of Paris stayed in the shelter of their homes and the few people who braved the cold wore their thickest coats. Seeing them warm made her all the more conscious with her lack of clothing. The earlier rainfall had drenched her from head to foot and her rags of a dress did nothing to keep her comfortable with the cold; the option of returning to her father and the Patron-Minette was simply out of the question ever since she ruined their plans in Rue Plumet; they're one of the most dangerous people in the underground world of Paris, filled with killers and thieves. Though she has no right to point since she had her share of pickpocketing, even if it was a ruse that was under the orders of her father, Thernardier. Her _maman_ couldn't care less about the beatings Eponine receives whenever she came back without any spoils for them or how she would refuse to loot someone, especially when that person was poorer than they.

Strange how things were; nine years ago, they would shower her with love and praise as they owned an inn, and francs and sous filled their pockets but as soon as the economy collapsed (and some messy run ins with Javert), they turned their resentment to their daughter but she would take the abuse as long as it keeps her alive. This made her grateful that Gavroche had escaped this fate and became the little brother of the whole Les Amis de l'ABC in her place.

Speaking if which, there was a stirring that hung around the air within the cafe. Whilst she wasn't part of it originally since she wasn't a student, she quickly fitted in with them. Feuilly would enthusiastically spend hours talking about his beloved Poland, Grantaire would invite almost anyone to a duel to see who could drink the most in one go (he was the undefeated champion), Joly and Courfeyrac would burst into songs whenever things get too depressing and Combeferre would share his philosophies about certain topics that made her head spin. Lesgles would be the only one she would really avoid since his reputation to bring bad luck had reached her ears and any more bad luck to add on her already miserable life is something she's not keen to have. Jean Prouvaire was a romantic at heart and would recite beautiful poetry.

Enjolras-

... What could she say about him?

"He has a one-tracked mind" she thought aloud, kicking a pebble that bounced on a nearby wall.

"Who does?" a foreign voice came behind her asked.

Eponine quickly spun around to stare face to face with the leader of the revolution. A young man with blond shaggy hair that waves to the back of his head and wore a jacket with the patch that signifies where his loyalty stands, and unlike her, he was dry. She could feel heat blooming on her face; she had always been awkward around him since she never had a chance to get to know him more other than the charismatic leader. They had shared a few conversations but other than that, the man has his eye focused on one goal, the freedom of Patria.

* * *

The young man continued to hold Eponine's stare with his stormy blue eyes. He walked out of the cafe to get some fresh air (and away from some of the men's drunken slurs) and to clear his head. In actuality, he's now having second thoughts about the barricades as he looked around and saw the dozen faces of men who became his friends and bonded for a common cause only to lead them into bloodshed. They are but mere mortals after all, made of flesh and bone that will decay within the stream of time.

He walked a couple of blocks away and left Combeferre in charge only to see the young woman who always shadowed Marius' steps, staring up the heavens despite her wet state. At first he just wanted to walk by her but he suddenly felt he could use some company. A company of someone who he wouldn't send to their grave; he then heard her speak,

"Are you on your own as well?"

He opened his mouth to answer only to see her directing the question to the moon. He quirked an eyebrow towards her, what a sight to see; a woman asking questions to the moon while standing in the middle of the rain-drenched street. He first saw her, she was pocketing a pastry she swiped from the baker's shop and gave it to Gavroche. When he witnessed this, he wanted to call her out for her crime but as he noticed the way she smiled as Gavroche eat the éclair, he lets it go. But as time passed and with Marius being an active member of the group, he began to see more of Eponine.

She was... a mystery to him. One moment she was silent and can make herself invisible and the next, she would be quick-witted with a sharp tongue that challenged any man into backing out a verbal onslaught, although she immediately crumbled against Combeferre's theories. Whilst she was very much comfortable with Marius, she always kept her guard with everyone else other than the inner circle of Les Amis. A wary eye and a flinching expression made him question about what kind of life she had been leading. From what he had observed, she was in love with Marius who didn't even notice it. But then, he wouldn't really know much about love, it was a distraction from their higher call and from what Marius had exhibited earlier, 'love' might get them killed.

"He has a one-tracked mind"

Her voice pertaining amusement shook him out of his reverie and without thinking, he asked, "Who does?" His voice sounded gruff; maybe from the long 'speech' he delivered to strengthen their resolve amidst the air of uncertainty.

The young gamine spun around with a brave front only have a surprised look on her face. Her brown eyes shimmered with the emotions of awkwardness and maybe... embarrassment?

"M'sieur" she mumbled.

"Eponine," he greeted back. Noticing the way she shivered with her wet clothing, he leaned his head towards the cafe. But she already caught on what he was about to say and wrapped her arms around her chest to save some dignity even though the man never had so much as to look anywhere besides her face.

"I'm fine out here, m'sieur" she answered, but traitorous body shook and she could hear her teeth chattering.

Enjolras would've laughed at her poor attempts of being tough if it wouldn't lead her to sickness. "It would be best that you would sit next to a fire" he cajoled but she firmly stayed rooted on her spot with a forced smile, "I'm comfortable where I am but I am grateful for the invitation. And I'm not really a part of your... organization so I can't just go there whenever I pleased."

'_Stalling_' he thought.

Eponine would sometimes wander inside Cafe Musain whenever it suited her like a stray, evidently snooping about to see if Marius was there or not but they just let her be. People in her social status were one of the reasons they planned the uprising. So that people without privileges have an equal share to those who are rich. Plus she is Gavroche's sister and Marius' confidante so they knew she could be trusted.

"Are you looking for Pontmercy?" he asked.

A subtle twitch on her face was the answer and frankly, he didn't what else to do. He had thought about just let her be and return to his comrades but seeing her in that state and then leaving her out in the cold just wouldn't do. So, with a new resolve, he grabbed her wrist and began to pull her to the direction of the cafe. But she proved to be quite stubborn for a woman since she tugged and began to tell at him to release her. She even threatened to scream but with the way she spoke in only a harsh whisper, he doubts she would even think about doing it.

With a last forceful tug, she succumbed to his will and fell against him, her strength gone.

Grunting at the fact that she was pressed against him, he found that she was light, too light for a healthy woman in her age, which was around his own, and her all-too-worn dress began to cling around her body that was far too skinny. Under the light of a lamp, he saw her face up close for the first time.

A face that one hadn't expect a gamine to have.

A face that has chocolate waves framing it with shapely eyebrows and brown eyes that can capture a soul but they were blemished with redness. Was she crying? And although her face had some dirt on it, he could faintly see bruise that was forming on her left cheek and a cut on her lower lip. She would have been quite a beauty if she was properly nourished and her skin would have been pale and soft if it wasn't tanned under the sun's rays and several scars littered her arms and legs.

"What happened there?" he asked, eyeing the bruise as if it challenged his love for patria.

Eponine lifted her fingers to touch the spot where he was staring, unintentionally flinching as she felt the numbing effect of the bruise she got from her father. Tugging one corner of her mouth in an attempt to form a smile, she just made a bold faced lie, "Oh, I was just hit by a door, can you believe it?"

If she was telling this to Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Joly, they might have sniggered with amusement and cockled a few teasing but Enjolras was far from amused and she knew that he knows that it's not as she said. Clearing her throat, she pushed him by his chest gently, refusing to meet his gaze, knowing that he would look at her with pity in his eyes. And pity is not what she wanted. Never wanted it, never needed it. Unlike other women, she is self-sufficient and a survivor. And while the pickings are slim in other days, she thanked God above that she wasn't forced by Thernardier to work in the docks.

The docks that were the hauntings of men who had urges in the night and there were whispers that some of those unfortunate prostitutes had gone into the night only to turn up dead and some were bloated and found floating upon the water.

Enjolras just simply stared, not knowing what to say. Though they wanted equality for the poor, he hadn't really seen how they live their daily business apart from the beggars he had seen asking for alms on the alleys. Street urchins like Gavroche had given an impression that they are a rough and tumble bunch that can weather any storm but he didn't look at them long enough to see the bruises, the scars that peppered their body that became their medals of having to live a rough life.

Eponine, fed up with the silence and staring, began to take a step back so to flee from his scrutinizing gaze. She'd always put up a strong persona. Only the strong can survive this world and the meek will fall and crumble under the boots of the strong ones. And God help her if she will be weak in front of anyone, but this man... he's quick to see and she doubts he will fall for any excuse she had always used on Marius. But she held fast by a large hand that curled around her wrist and she looked back with a questioning expression.

A bell tolled in the distance, it seems that Notre Dame had announced the start of the evening mass. Distracted by sound of bells, she found herself being tugged in the cafe once more.

"Monsieur" she said, "I may look like a whelp but I can stand on my own. Now please leave me be so I could rest"

Enjolras paid no heed to her plea as he walked through the streets. The pitter patter that was made by the heels of his boots echoed the empty street and only the streetlamps were the source of light other than the moon. Eponine was never one for silence so she decided to open a conversation,

"Why do you fight Monsieur?"

The question made Enjolras stop for a moment before continuing his stride, "For France, for freedom from the clutches of the corrupt and give everyone the equality they all so deserved."

She could feel her lips curl at the way he said those words. "What pretty words you say monsieur," she started, "As expected from a student of a renowned school-"

"University" he corrected.

"-but I suppose there's more to it?" she finished with an assuming tone.

"It's for the land we live mademoiselle," he grounded, "The land where we were bore and to rest as time comes. I had seen the way those in power would eradicate the system and force people into poverty and slavery. We fight for what is right."

His answer rang with such raw passion that it made her stare at him. Amongst the many orations the Les Amis have given in the square and in front of Lamarque's house, apart from Marius who had captured her heart, she would sometimes single him, Enjolras, out because of his words and how he used his passion and love for France to echo the truths into the common folks' minds. Letting them know they had the power to change their lives and to have the courage to stand up for what they believed in. But as beautiful as those words were, Eponine thought none for France; in fact, she cursed the life she had come from. Abusive parents that consisted a con artist of a father who would beat her without hesitation and a mother who was so negligent that she even forgot she has children. The motherland did nothing to ease her suffering, only to make her see that she was and will always be a scum in the street. How she wanted to laugh, not too long ago her mother said that to describe Cosette and her mother and now, the girl is dressed with lavish gowns and became the epitome of purity and innocence of their time.

'No wonder Marius became besotted with her' she mentally hissed before she gave out a loud sigh. She, who had followed him and guided him through the streets for years. She who had become his confidant in a world he wanted to escape, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to lend for his troubles and doubts. But never the woman he wants to love, the one to cherish and the one to have a promise to build a future together.

How that wounds her!

_'Because you're not worth loving'_ a dark voice inside the very crevice of her mind whispered. _'A muck under the shoes of society, the lowest of the low, offspring of the unwanted sort that needs to be exterminated'_ those kinds of thoughts plagued her as she entered her adolescence.

Sounds of good cheer and laughter made her look at the diminishing building that was brightened with the candles inside. Various shapes of shadows flitted through the windows and a small head full of golden curls popped out of the door.

"Enjorlas! Grantaire's drunk... the fourth time and Com- 'Ponine!"

The sight of his sister made Gavroche run out into the street and tackled her with a hug before he turned his attention back once more on Enjorlas, "Combeferre is having a row with Lesgles about having a second plan."

"A second plan?" the man echoed.

"In case the barricades were to fail" Gavroche explained in a soft tone in case any unwanted ears were to catch that precious information. He shook his head and entered the cafe with his hand still holding on to Eponine. Several men who huddled by the fireplace silenced when Enjorlas entered with a young woman in tow, with him holding onto her wrist like she was his _corde de sycurity_.

And the fact that he even has any physical contact with the fairer sex, as Jean Prouvaire had described, was hard to process. On the second floor was Grantaire with a large mug of ale in his hand and was in the middle of re-enacting his latest conquest when Enjorlas stepped in, letting go of Eponine. She wanted to run away but seeing as Marius was not present and Gavroche was now the one following her, she saw it was best to stay put, even for a little while.

"We should prepare for the battle tomorrow!" Enjolras berated, his whole being exude the airs that of a general ordering his troupes. The rest looked at each other and Grantaire slumped into a nearby chair and placed his glass down, completely sobering up. Combeferre walked up to Enjorlas and placed a hand on his shoulder, "We're going to a war Enjolras. Give us a few moments to be at ease before dawn." There was a slight pitch in the philosopher's voice, fear had made itself known and the stench of restlessness still hung in their presence. The leader looked around, his friends, brothers in arms... students. Young men who had a future ahead of them. Families and friends outside the group. The very least he could do was let them ease out the tension.

"Fine, but know that we shall start the revolution and I don't anyone to turn up and start shooting everything that moved because they're still intoxicated."

All eyes sailed to Grantaire who in turn looked at them with a confused look and said "What?" Courfeyrac and Feuilly gave a whoop of delight while Joly nursed his drink and laughed at the others' jokes. Lesgles and Combeferre had grim faces though, and from what Gavroche had reported, they're still having a debate. The two immediately went to Enjorlas to voice out their concerns as Eponine sat next to Madame Belledonna, one of the women who volunteered to sew the flags for them to wave. The plumpy woman squinted at Eponine and suddenly chuckled in amusement. The young Thenardier glanced at the still chortling woman and inquired, "Have I done something to amuse you madam?"

Belladonna finished her chuckle and shook her head at Eponine and jutted her chin at Enjolras whose back was in front of theirs, talking low with the two and shaking his head a couple of times. "Quite a gentleman that young monsieur is," Belladonna said. Eponine said nothing, not knowing if she should reply or not but she did nod. Not many people had exactly offered her a hand of kindness. Only Marius did, that's how her infatuation with him started.

"And such a lovely man. It's a shame he never found any time for lady companionship"

She immediately looked at the woman with a look that made the woman gasped and waved a hand, looking affronted, "Not that kind of lady! I meant the kind that young Marius has found. Wouldn't stop sputtering about a young woman he just met days ago!" Slowly, her heart broke again as the woman recounted the way Marius went in the meeting all starry-eyed and sighing like a lovesick fool that he was. '_Stop!_' she mentally yelled at herself, '_Don't you dare cry! Don't let them see you weak!_' Her one-sided conversation with herself was interrupted when Enjolras shouted, his tone was sharp-

"A _'fool's hope_'?! This is our freedom we're fighting for!"

Combeferre bit his lower lip and Lesgles stood his ground, face grim and his lips set in a straight line. The second in command finally lets out a sigh and spoke up, "Enjolras, Lesgles has a point. The barricades is a Hail Mary pass and we might not survive with just few numbers-"

"The people will help us!"

"The people are frightened!" Lesgles shouted, prompting everyone to now stare, even those who were downstairs now peered from the stairs to see what the trouble was that brewed within their group. "I could see it. Fear in their eyes and hesitations of their actions. We can't guarantee their help with this one!"

The leader growled and ran a hand through his hair, "Then when is our time? When will it be the right time to strike them other than the march for General Lamarque, (God bless his soul)?"

"Everything comes gradually and at its appointed hour. That's what Ovid believed" Combeferre chimed.

Enjolras immediately rounded on Combeffer, making everyone nervous at his aggressive approach. Feuilly was already half-standing to hold Enjolras back only to hear him ask them.

"Then what is it you believe? What do you think will be the outcome of this?"

"We'll all die"

Grantaire's answer shot them like ice running through their veins. Courfeyrac led Gavroche downstairs while Joly looked far more depressed than any had seen him. Legles, Comferre, Bahorel and Prouvaire now refused to look at Enjolras. But the young man knew as well; they were right. With their few number and resources, the royal army would wipe them clean. For the first time, he didn't know what to do. And with that, he walked out of the café once more, not noticing someone following him in the shadows.


	2. A Plan

A/N: A great many thanks to my reviewers. And note that I shall update within 5 days' time unless something were delay my updates. My beloved **Warblette** and **PerkyTurkeyBaby**, I thank you for the kind words. I look forward to your feedbacks.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Victor Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper.

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**From Me To You**

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"Damn!"

People who were walking by the sidewalk stole a glance from the seething man who punched a wall, unaware of his bleeding knuckle which instantly bloom purple and red splotches. He wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his hand, wincing as the sweat seeped into his open wound. Another curse escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and let everything sink in. The revolution they had been preparing for was now on a standstill; the battle plans he had poured his thoughts and soul all went down to the sewers. All those sleep-deprived nights and stressful days dropped on him with one fell swoop. He could feel stinging in his eyes and knew they were actually tears. Strange, he couldn't remember the last time he had shed a drop; not even when his great uncle died from sickness, or even when his favourite cousin was murdered after a mugging attempt went wrong. Slowly, he leaned on the opposite wall and slid down to the dirty pavement, not caring about the grime that will stick to his clothes. He was tired, he was suddenly questioning himself if everything he had done was all for naught, the very thought made him want to curl into a ball of depression and just let his life whist away like ashes.

Eponine slowly walked out of the shadows and looked at him; the founder of Les Amis and their strong cornerstone, now leaning on an alleyway wall with his head covered by his bleeding hand. She had never seen anyone so broken and her heart sympathized for his pain. The pain of wanting to gain something only to see it fall right in front your eyes, a pain that won't heal for a long time. And while it was her heart that ached for an unrequited love, his was far more. His ambition, his dream for liberation and all of that hard work; gone with just one blink because of the sudden realization of the real world.

_'And the world laughs at our failures and feeds on our misery'_ she mused.

But Enjolras needs someone to reassure him, someone to show him that tomorrow is another chance to try. She snorted a bit, maybe she also needed to hear that advise as well. So with that, she slinked to him as silent as a cat and kneeled down to his level, "What is the cause of those tears monsieur?" She had to act as if she wasn't there, though he knows that she knows the answer very well.

"'Tis the tears of a man who had nothing left mademoiselle," he answered without looking up, "A man whose ambitions resulted into naught but wasted time and energy. A man who raised the people's hopes and failed them because of trivial realities." Those words tasted like vinegar in his tongue. He could feel her eyes on him and he wants nothing more than to shield him from everybody's gaze on him.

"You talk as if you've already lost" she softly replied. The words entered his like she shouted it right into his brain. He hung his head and slowly placed his hands on his knees.

"I only speak the words of truth mademoiselle-"

"My name is Eponine, as you know. Please call me without any formalities"

"And you know mine as well. I only spoke of the truth. With few weapons and support from our countrymen; we are but ants waiting to be crushed by the royal army." His tone was sure but she could hear him wanting to combat his own words, trying to grasp even the slightest hope to find a light in the end of a very long and dark tunnel.

"Support..."

For the first time, he lifted his head to look at his companion only to see her with a thoughtful look like she was talking in her mind before she looked at him straight in the eye and said, "And what if I can get more for your cause monsieur?"

An unintentional scoff exited his mouth and he quickly covered it as Eponine looked at him with a brow lifted with question, "Forgive me, I don't wish to offend you Eponine but we already tried but we all came back empty handed."

Instead of a downcast look he expected to see, she gave him an exasperated sigh and crossed her arms in a defiant manner, "Monsieur, though I have very little material things to own, I have far more information and connections than you would dream of," she huffed and her chin was up in pride.

"And were those the connections with your father's?" he asked. He was surprised to see her glare at him before she shook her head and gave a defeated sigh, "I wish I could shed the name of my father's from mine but he is what he is and I have no power over that. But monsieur, I know my way around and I know secrets that even the monarchs didn't have a slightest clue."

Enjolras couldn't believe his ears; the woman might be the ticket to help then win this revolution and the idea of the barricades were not destroyed, only pushed back in a certain time gave him strength. With a renewed spark of energy bloomed in his chest, he stood with a smile on his face. It was the first time she looked at him in a close proximity and she was secretly beguiled by his beauty. While Marius was handsome, though she obviously favors him, Enjolras had a face that of a nobleman's as well but with more of a mature light. High cheek bones, an aristocratic nose and his lips were that of Cupid's bow. But his blue eyes sparkled with sheer focus and dedication that was absent to many and his hair was of golden threads like the ones she had seen in beautiful fabrics displayed in expensive clothing shops. His teeth were of beautiful and shining pearls and she felt a bit insecure with herself as she has two missing molars at the back rows of her own set for she had sold it for a couple of francs. This man could sell a hefty price with that gold and pearls but she would be damned as to even suggest such a thing. But then there is a small matter of fees, business is business after all.

"Ah but of course this comes with a price, Monsieur Enjolras"

His face twisted in a funny way that she gave a quiet laugh, a first for that evening from her otherwise disastrous day. He, on the other hand, was far from laughing. But nonetheless, he felt around his pockets and recovered forty francs and a couple of sous, a reasonable sum but he had no use for money. It was all meaningless to him and regardless to where he was brought up, it was just paper and silver that brainwashed people into being a slave to it. But as he gave it to Eponine, the gamin gave him an offended look and pushed it back into his hand. Needless to say, he was surprised that she would give it back as though it was a handful of mud.

"Why do you noblemen always think I want a monetary price? I ask for something quite different" she said, her hands folded on her back, watching as Enjolras placed the money back into his pockets.

"And what is it you ask for?"

"For some company tonight" she said in a straight face.

His eyes widened and he felt his mouth ran dry as he saw a cheeky smile on her lips and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. But his shock was short-lived as she threw her head back and let out a laugh. His surprise turned into confusion and embarrassment, what does she really mean by companionship? That's when he realized she was just teasing him. So with a wounded ego, he cleared his throat, "Yes, you're really such a tease. What is the price then for your help?"

She stopped her laughter though her smile stayed on her face. "I wish for shelter for the time being sir, don't worry, it wouldn't for more than a few days. Just until I can get back to my feet and my second condition is to be a member of Les Amis for you to ensure my loyalty" she explained. Enjolras nodded, "I accept your offer and please call me Enjolras, no formalities likewise." He extended his uninjured hand for her to shake and close their agreement. She grasped his hand with and saw how much larger his hand was compared to hers before they shook once and the deal was made.

They walked into the cafe where the mood had dampened even more. Several men were already sleeping and the ones who were still awake were talking in low voices. Climbing up, they were greeted by the glum faces of the inner circle. Combeferre and Grantaire looked interested at the fact Eponine was there again, following their usually loner leader with a slight bounce in her step. Prouvaire who was speaking to Bahorel looked at them with an inquiring expression and nudged his friend to notice them as well, Lesgles was nowhere to be found though Enjolras has a sneaking suspicion he had already retired for the night. On the farthest side of the room was Courfeyrac fast asleep on the chair and Gavroche, who was biting through a small bread roll, gave them a small wave. Joly stared at Enjolras' bleeding hand and stood up to clean it but he held up a hand to stop him. Almost immediately, they all turned their attention to the weary man but his stance was otherwise.

"My friends, in light of certain matters. We shall cancel the revolution until further notice."

A slight buzz of whispers now covered the room but Enjolras continued with his announcement, "But as the problems were that the small number we possess, we have to gain support from the people as well as weapons. That's where Eponine will be of help to us." He turned to Eponine, the others did as well, "She can help persuade the people help us with the revolt. And with that being said, she would be a member of Les Amis de l'ABC."

Grantaire spat out the ale he just drank, spraying the floor with spittle and ale. Combeferre, Bahorel and Prouvaire stared dumbfounded at Eponine while Feuilly just sat there, waiting for Enjolras to continue. Gavroche looked confused, he was happy he could be with his sister but this group is no place for a lady, even for someone as tough as Eponine. And no doubt their bastard of a father would look for her; she was one of his routes to get some money without lifting a finger.

"_Ma qualité_! I meant no offense 'Ponine," Grantaire slurred as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "But not even with your _charm_ could you possibly force them to fight with us."

Eponine took a step with one hand on her hip, as several men chuckled; even Enjolras had to bite his lip in order to hide his diverted grin. "As charming as I am, I will not force them but to make them see what all of you had been doing. The people are mainly those who lived in the gutters, the people who seldom even eat one square meal a day and riddled with disease (Joly flinched at her words) but we have to make them understand that what we've been fighting for is for their sake. The hope of having a better world to live in will be our weapon. I came from the gutters, the place they all know too well and they would surely listen to me as I had also bore the hardship of life as a gamine."

Slowly, the men started to look at her as if she was the female equivalent of Enjolras. Even the man himself was surprised by her eloquent speech. If she had attended a university, she might have been a renowned orator. Combeferre slowly clapped that was imitated by the others and Grantaire raised his mug with a shout of "Aye!"

Enjolras gave a small smile at them before he spoke once more, "We will resume the meeting after we pay our respects to General Lamarque. For now, let us rest, we have had a tiring day." The men also agreed and they all stood up, slowly gathering their few items except for Joly who ran to retrieve a medical kit for Enjorlas' neglected wound.

Eponine walked towards the fireplace after being welcomed by the others, Combeferre, Feuilly and Bahorel shook her hand and Prouvaire kissed her knuckle in which she gave a sweet smile. Grantaire, fueled with alcohol, gave her a smack her on the cheek with her returning him the favor with a good-natured slap on the face which didn't even hurt the slightest.

Gavroche approached his sister, offering her what was left of his meal which Eponine declined. The handful of bread might be the only thing he had eaten for a while and she will not share something that was rightfully someone else's. The thought made her heart wrench yet again. Marius and Cosette had flitted in and out of her mind for the longest time that she thought she would go insane. One of the reasons she entered the group was to make herself busy to forget and maybe in time, she would finally let it go. Several small voices were heard outside of the building; awakening Courfeyrac from his slumber and looked around to see the almost empty room except for Feuilly who was wrapping a clean cloth around Enjolras' hand and the Thenardier siblings by the fireplace. He looked for the source of the noise to see a couple of street urchins looking up. Knowing what their purpose was, he called for Gavroche who then ran out and bid them all a good night. Yawning, Courfeyrac asked the blond what transpired during his slumber, prompting Enjolras to replay his speech again.

Eponine gave a smile to the quiet man as he welcomed her before he took his departure and waited for Enjolras to have his wound cleaned. She accidentally brushed her hand against the pocket of her dress and the little reminder of what she must do. With a heavy heart, she approached the two men and told them she would be out for a moment and return as quickly as she could.

* * *

Marius Pontmercy sighed as he looked at the moon that hung just outside his window. He could still see the fair Cosette's face on the clear luminous glow of the moon. He opened his trunk and retrieved his ring. The gold ring had the emblem of first letter of his name on it and the coat of arms of the Pontmercy family. He opted to leave it there and refused to wear it as it symbolizes his ties with a wealthy family but... if he was to marry Cosette in the future, he should ask her hand from her father. And maybe he should wear it to ensure the older man that he can very much secure Cosette's future. Lifting his hand to his desk, he felt his mouth being tugged upwards as he carefully held up the small white handkerchief, a token of her affections as they had met under the beautiful night which was but a few short hours ago.

It was such a strange feeling, to see someone with her beauty and innocence within their society. He felt as though he could win the entire war by himself if that would make her father approve of him. His daydreaming of a beautiful wedding with the blond young woman came to a halt when a knock on his door came. He opened it slightly and looked through the crack to see Eponine with her face hidden under the shadows. He widely opened it and gave a friendly hug in which she didn't return. He didn't mind her sudden unfriendliness since he was walking on the clouds of pure love and contentment; he didn't even notice the true face of his best friend that was cloaked with a mask of indifference.

"Eponine, I don't have anything more to do than be forever thankful for your help. My beloved friend, you have done for me more than anyone ever did and when I ask Cosette's hand-"

"The old man and girl had left Rue Plumet." She all but shouted. Her voice shook and cracked in the end.

Marius stared at her before he grabbed her shoulders, "How are you sure of this? Eponine, where had they gone? What happened that they had to flee at night?" Eponine yelped at the firmness of his hands around her shoulder, Marius immediately released her like he was burned by a bundle of live coals and gave her a panicked look but she knew it was not for her sake.

"My father tried to rob their home; I had to stop them so I screamed. It must have alerted the man and the last thing I saw was the girl placing this note addressed for you." She left out the fact that Thenardier was looking for revenge and his idea of a just reward was a pound of flesh and goods to loot. Slowly, she took out the note and gave it to him. He quickly unfolded the letter and his eyes scanned the words, repeating it like he was trying to memorize the content.

"Rue de l'Homme Arme? They're moving to England by noon tomorrow?!" he read aloud, his voice shook with anguish. Eponine felt stinging pain as she watched Marius sat on his bed before he sprang right up and walked out of the door. Eponine quickly ran after him, her footfalls softer than his as they sped through the alleyways.

"Eponine, tell the others that I will be by the barricades as soon as I-"

"The barricades have been postponed. We will have a meeting after General Lamarque's wake tomorrow" she clarified. Marius stopped for a moment and turned to her, "What happened?"

"Enjolras had an epiphany and made a choice that could save everyone in Les Amis" she answered.

"And what choice was that?"

Eponine looked at him and clasped her hands in front of her, "We will go ahead with the barricades once we have enough men and weapons to be able to fight with the king's foot soldiers in an equal ground. Marius, must you really go? Surely they will miss you at the march."

Marius sighed and fully turned to her and leaned close. In a flash if hope, she thought he will kiss her but as it turns, he whispered, "Just don't tell them where I had gone. Please Eponine, do this for me?"

_'And I had done everything you've asked ever since we've first met,_' a mournful voice echoed in her mind as he left her there, in the middle of the dark all alone once again.

* * *

A/N: Please Read and Review. Here's a little secret, the more I get feedbacks, the faster I update because of inspiration ;) Comments, Suggestions and Questions are welcome and also constructive criticism. I don't allow flames. So please don't attempt to write one.


	3. The Bargain

Author's note: Hi this is morbidsweetie13. It's still sweetangel014's fic but since she will be unable to post it today, she requested me to do it for her. She sends her love, well wishes and a box of assorted cookies.

Ehehehe, awkward, yeah. Anywho, she just wanna ask me to tell you guys to review this one since she's been edgy on what you people really feel about this piece of hers.** Love it? Hate it? Or tolerate it?** Hey don't ask me, I'm just the messenger girl. But here's what she wrote:

**sweetangel014:**

"A/N: Hello my darlings, I hope you weren't too shocked to see me update in such a short period of time but it's because of you reviews that got me writing in such speed! To be honest I don't really know if I was to update because the lack of feedbacks but a particular review from Mademoiselle **BellePheonix** whose kind and touching words gave me strength to continue on. Thank you for your kind words cherie, I will dedicate this chapter for you~! And also thanks to **PerkyTurkeyBaby** who never failed to send me a review :,)

I look forward to hear from you readers and please, read and review so I may know what your real thoughts are for this fic.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Victor Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper."

So, READ and REVIEW for this fic or I will come and find ya! Hahaha kidding!

* * *

**From Me To You**

* * *

There she was, alone again in the street. It was in grim humour that she was in the same state earlier. Marius was firm with his decision to meet with Cosette and his actions had thrust the final dagger into her heart that resembled a pin cushion. What does that woman have that she doesn't?

'_Everything_' the voice in her head reminded her. And it was right.

With just a single look from that short time she saw Cosette on that fateful day; she looked every bit of a porcelain doll as Eponine had seen before. Long waves of flaxen coloured hair and wide blue eyes. Pure ivory skin and she donned a lovely dress that Eponine would only dream of touching. On her arm was her 'father' though from the stories of her parents, he was the one who took Cosette away and they lived in secrecy. She was her opposite; while she was happy in her childhood and grew up in a miserable state, it was now Cosette who gets what she desires. 'Look what has become of me' she wistfully thought. Frustration with Marius and the manner of her living, she walked in a brisk manner, almost defiant as though she won't crumple under the pressure the world had thrown at her.

A survivor and a fighter at heart. Yes, that's what Eponine is and with God as her witness, she will never be broken again.

* * *

Soon, she entered the cafe where the fire in the fireplace was just minutes into dying out and only a lone candle was lit. Enjorlas, now sporting a bandage on his hand, looked up with his books and parchments in his hands. "Is something wrong?" he asked. Though he doesn't really care for her, he was curious on what made the woman stand up and run away. And that usually associated with the Pontmercy. And maybe it did since he saw the corners of her face red as well as her eyes. Eponine just shrugged in indifference and walked in front of him, "Nothing that would really concern you mon- I mean Enjolras"

The lack of formality with his name was of strange taste in her tongue. Except for Marius, she had never called another man's name with such familiarity. He didn't look offended since he was the one who encouraged this as she did with her name before he straightened up and walked by her to blow the last candle. As she watched the smoke dance and curl on the air, she saw Enjolras just standing by the foot of the stairs before she realized he waiting for her.

"You said you needed a place to stay, yes?" he said as she joined him, she nodded slowly before they walked out of the cafe. He led her though several boarding houses before they stopped at a small loft near a park. It was simple and could be easily overlooked if it was to compare with the townhouses beside it. He fumbled to get the key since his arms was laden with heavy books before he froze when he felt a small hand enter his front pockets.

While her face remained stoic, she could hardly hide the fact she was amused by the reactions of the student. He refused to meet her eye and she could hear him swallowing audibly before she felt the key and fished it from the interior fabric. She stabbed the key into the hole and twisted it. Enjorlas grabbed the knob and pushed forward to reveal a rather messy room. One would think that someone as organized as he would have a tidy living space but then, she mused, he wouldn't have time to clean after himself while he was so busy planning and preparing. He placed his books on a surface, maybe a table, since she couldn't see much on the poorly lit room and almost tripped on a discarded shirt. In the darkness, she heard a sound of a match being struck and a small spark of fire glowed within inches of her.

Enjorlas lit several lamps in the corners of the room, filling the flat with a soft glow. Stacks of tightly furled parchments were placed on random corners, books both thick and thin dominated the tables. Several articles of clothing were strewn about on the hooks of the coat hanger and chairs. On the other side, she could see three more doors, where they led to, she wouldn't know.

"Make yourself comfortable" he invited, easing himself out of his vest and placed it on the tattered couch. She walked across the room, eager to examine the chart that depicted the outlined city of Paris. Slowly, she took it from it the hook that kept it in place and held it by the closest lantern to inspect. She's quite literate and although her parents used to spoil her, she always had a secret thirst for knowledge that can't be extinguished by dolls or trinkets. "There's supposed to be a passage here" she said. "_Pardonnez-moi_?" Enjorlas replied, rolling his sleeves to his forearm.

Holding up the chart for him to see and pointed at a small dotted mark near Notre Dame, "There's a small passage way that can lead out of the city, it's the _l'Ossuaire Municipal_, the catacombs of Paris".

Enjolras took the chart and soothed it on the table, "I had read about this place but they say that it was closed off because of the unsafe structure. And we need weapons Eponine, not an escape route" he reasoned. The gamine shook her head as she rested her hands on the edge of the table, "It's just precautions. Who is to say what will happen during the battle? And we can turn it into a small hideaway to heal the injured."

"A covered place for the dead, fitting for people who are to die as well" he muttered solemnly.

"Or a beacon of hope for the future" she argued. Somehow, the leader was still a bit pessimistic despite her reassurance of help. Had he have no faith in her? Then again, the man wasn't as trusting as Marius was with her abilities. It was all in a leap of faith and he was a blindfolded trapeze artist trying to balance everything without falling from the wire that separates him between life and death.

Enjolras sighed, the woman has an extensive knowledge of the underground networks and it would be useful in case the plan didn't go as smoothly as they had anticipated.

A curious sound emerged from his left side. He looked at Eponine who turned her head to the opposite direction and pursed her lip, it took another sound from her side to make him realize that it was her stomach who demanded attention.

"You should have said you wanted something to eat" he scolded her, walking to a cupboard and fetched a loaf of bread and a silver triangular plate. He took off the cloche to reveal a hunk of cheese. It was a very simple meal but for someone like her, it was like manna from the heavens above. But before she could even take a step forward, she stopped herself and stared at him. Enjolras tilted his head slightly on the side, she was hungry wasn't she? So why won't she take it?

Folding her hands in front of her, she just stood there as though she was waiting for something. It was a few more moments before she breathed out, "Have you eaten yet?" Her voice was soft, mostly due to her hunger.

For the first time in his life, he was shocked by one woman in just one night. She was already frightfully thin but she was still concerned if he had already filled his stomach? The very idea of someone thinking of him before themselves was almost nonexistent to him. Eponine Thenardier, such an unusual woman. If he was to offer the same food to another street dweller, they would have taken it even before he could blink and ask for more. "I've already eaten so don't you fret" he answered. He can't help but let a small teasing tone that sounded foreign in his own ears but she nodded and approached the food and ate it. Not minding her manners as she shoved the food in her mouth and a hum of contentment did he truly saw the extent of her hunger.

After she wiped her mouth with the hem of her dress, not at all bothered that she had showed her undergarments to him, she thanked him and walked towards the couch. "Where are you going?" he asked, "Do you believe I would let a lady sleep on the uncomfortable couch whilst I have access to a bed?" Eponine looked at him a let a chuckle escape her mouth, "Surely you must have known by now that I am no lady? If I can sleep on the cold cemented floors of my own home, surely a couch is an improvement."

"And as the man of this house I _order_ you to take the bed" he firmly stated, crossing his arms.

Eponine blinked once, then twice before she copied his stand with a belligerent face, "Has anyone ever told you that you're impossible?"

"On a daily basis, but by God, you are the most stubborn person I've ever met."

"You must have mistaken me for mirror monsieur for it is _you_ who is the stubborn one. I can adapt well in any environment though it is quite different to see you so chivalrous," she said, a playful tone seeped in her voice.

Enjolras fought the urge to slap his face in an immature manner and let out a frustrated sigh, "I thought women would appreciate chivalry?" Women, he could never understand them. Such fickle creatures that can't seem to be transfixed with one objective. And the primary examples were his mother and aunts.

"Chivalry is only a cover of men who wants to get something in return" the woman huffed, sitting on the couch and stretched out, letting her dirty feet lie on the armrest. Enjorlas finally had enough, this woman- no, _this girl_ would be daft if she thinks she could do whatever she pleases in his own flat! With quick and long strides, he caught her by the waist and with her extremely light weight; it was without difficulty as he threw her on his shoulder like a sack of flour and proceeded to walk towards his bedroom. All the way she was shouting and kicking in retaliation.

She was right though, _she wasn't lady_. Her mouth spouted different and rather colourful curses that he had only heard sailors would dare enough say (even when he heard Gavroche utter argot words that got him in trouble numerous times), she kneed him on the stomach with that bony knees of hers and her hands curled into fists and beat on his back. It was until he felt something on his neck did he stop. Something wet slathered through the collar of his shirt and an unmistakable set of teeth embedded to his skin. But instead of letting her go like she had intended, he wrapped his arm tighter and opened the door and kicked it widely before he tossed her on the bed.

Eponine tossed her long hair away from her face to glare at him only to see him glare back with his hand on a wound she bestowed upon him. "My patience is wearing thin mademoiselle, now please give us both the blessing of a good night's rest. Tomorrow will be long and we have to prepare" He closed the door, not slamming it like she had expected and walked away in soft footsteps. Her eyes adjusted with what limited light the moon provided her. There was only one window draped with a thick curtain, a simple desk with several notes filled with neat and narrow writing, no doubt it was his. A red jacket that imitates the colour of thick blood and finally, the bed she was unceremoniously threw upon. There were only two pillows and the blanket was thin but it was more than enough for a poor girl like her.

He had given so much for her and how she treated him back had brought her shame. She did after all, kick, curse and even bit him on the neck for his objection of letting her sleep on the couch. Not many men would have the decency to offer that, men she knew wouldn't even let her have the crumbs that fell on the table. She would just have to apologize and make it up to him. She always hated it when she felt indebted with someone.

* * *

The sound of screams and yells have surrounded the barricades, the furniture they gathered proved no match from the canons of the soldiers and the horrifying yells and cries threatening to blow his head off. The smell of gunpowder was overpowering and he felt something wet draped on the left side of his body. He turned to see Combeferre, his back drenched with blood from a bullet wound on his chest. The soldier had no face, only wearing a uniform that signified which side he was on. Before could call out to his friend, several shots were heard from behind him. Slowly, Grantaire, Bahorel, Joly, Prouvaire and Feuilly fell in front him, all their bodies were littered with bullet wounds and several of their supporters were gunned down as well. Agony enveloped his being and he cried out of anger, sorrow and retaliation. He griped his rifle and fired it at the nearest faceless soldier. He fired a stray gun from the ground and stabbed them with the tip of his sword before he retrieved his pistol he always kept in the inner holster of his jacket.

_Where are the others?_

The thought entered in his mind as he began to look, around. Courfeyrac was slumped against a broken table with his eyes wide open and a trickle of blood exited from his forehead, which might have been the cause of his death. Prouvaire was beside him but his back was eagle-spread and he lay on his own pool of blood. Marius was nowhere to be found. Enjolras let out a cry of despair, but his tears never fled from his eyes. Instead he took a shaking breath and journeyed on, firing at every faceless soldier that came his way.

There he came upon the gallows, he would have thought it was strange to have one in their perimeter but there was a plaque with the word '_traîtres_' painted in black and two bodies hung side by side. A body of a young woman and a boy swung side by side from the ropes that were tied around their neck.

Something told him to run, dare not to see the faces of the poor souls who were marked under treason by the perpetrators and hanged. But slowly, their bodies twisted to his direction and he felt nausea hit him with full force.

Little Gavroche who kept their hopes up and a little glimpse of happiness in times of despair now stared at him with empty eyes, his body now lifeless and his skin now in a sinewy pale colour. The woman was in far worst shape. Her hair was cut in an uneven fashion which spiked to the small of her back and her exposed skin revealed lashes from that of a whip. His eyes steadily went to her face only to see a bag placed over her head but he could make out streaks of blood pooling from the bag to her neck.

Then, something was pressed at the back of his head, prompting him to turn. But how could he? Fear had gripped him and rooted his feet to the ground. The sight of seeing his friends dead made him wish he was dead as well.

"Turn around" the rough voice ordered. Yet he didn't comply.

Is it merely fear that made him frozen? Or was it defiance that will make him firm to his cause until the very end of his days? He wouldn't know as the sound of a gunshot echoed through and he felt himself being pushed forward, something went through his chest and he felt his eyes slowly closing, his gaze still transfixed on the woman whose face he hadn't seen.

* * *

Enjolras gasped for breath as he opened his eyes. Every pore in his body flooded with cold sweat and his palms shook. He was never a superstitious person but he had heard several gypsies have said that some dreams were the manifestations of events that were yet to happen. With his throat dry and his body still flinching from the nightmare he had experienced, his thoughts were now plagued with second-guesses. It was unusual for him to act this way; he was the one who would calm the men of their fears, the one who would forge on to the battlefield, whether he dies or not was out of the question. A hand was placed on his mouth to stifle a sound of anger and confusion that threatened to awake his 'friend' from her sleep. The fear of the uncertain, that was what troubles him. He is but a school boy who banded together people with the same idea (though he wouldn't say the same with Grantaire) and declared that they will spark the first light in the dreary darkened lives of the common people while not regarding the fact that it would get them all killed.

He was about to back out, about to say the words of surrender if it weren't for Eponine. She has no clue that she was the reason the fight for freedom wasn't thrown off the table and into the sevine. Forgive a desperate man who wants to find a solution to their never ending problems.

The morning came within a few short hours of Enjolras' nightmare. He changed his upper garments and washed his face on the water basin. Carefully entering his bedroom, he saw Eponine curled in bed, still fast asleep with her hair fanned out on the pillow. She looks peaceful while asleep, like she was far from her daily battle against poverty. Enjorlas quietly took his red coat from its hook and walked out of the bedroom and headed out for the meeting place. But not before a small voice intercepted his departure, "Not going to leave me, are you?"

* * *

Grantaire yawned widely as he squinted from the sunlight. It is the day of reckoning... or at least it was, but in truth he wasn't at all disappointed. He wasn't very keen on spilling his blood until he's at least seventy years of age and had done something very unforgivable. The fact that Enjolras have put the plans to a periodical halt meant they could at least fix several loose ends, like; not dying. With a groan, he rubbed his temple with his hand; getting a hangover was something he could never get used to even when he drinks every chance he could get. His head felt as if someone had taken delight on swinging a sledgehammer to his temple and his mouth was awfully dried out. Joly gave him a cup of coffee but it was for naught, that remedy had failed him time and time again and his lack of sleep would just make him more impatient and hotheaded. Courfeyrac cupped his eyes from the sun's unforgiving rays to see the outline of Gavroche sitting atop of the Elephant of Bastille. The boy had resided in the empty crevice for many years and it served as his home, fortress and lookout tower.

Joly whistled at them and pointed at the crowd for them to see Enjolras donned in his red jacket with the patch pinned on his left breast pocket. Combeferre was the first to greet him; he nodded in return and began to rub his temples. The men looked at him with worry; it's not like Enjorlas to show weakness or even a hint of being tired but he is human after all so they can't expect him to be in his best shape every minute of every hour. He distributed the red flags amongst them with the instruction of waving them as high as they could while the procession traversed. Out of nowhere, a young man wearing a brown hat separated from the crowd. He was a small man, reaching as high as Enjorlas' ear appeared. He wore a worn down coat filled with holes and a hat that covered the upper half of his face. On his chest was the patch of Les Amis.

"Do we know you, _le petite_?" Prouvaire asked as the stranger walked towards their group. With a tiny smile, the 'boy' lifted the rim of his hat slightly and they saw the face of Gavroche's sister.

"'Ponine!" Courfeyrac hissed, "You shouldn't be here! Danger lurks at every corner, they won't take pity on you even if you're a woman." Eponine's smile stayed in her lips as she walked with them towards the middle of the streets which were marked by lines on the ground.

"I had nothing to fear. Am I not a member of Les Amis de l'ABC?" she asked casually before a hand came to cover her mouth. Enjolras' eyes flashed in like a warning sign over hers and his whole frame was taut with tension, "I thought I told you to stay behind?" Most of the group knew that whenever he used that tone, he is at the end of his patience and it would be a wise decision to follow his orders.

But the gamin, her stubborn soul and a persistent attitude won't back down. Instead, she pulled his hand off of her mouth and shook her head like a dog that was trying to get water off of its ears, "I don't want to wait around in the café like a worried wife for you boys to come home." Enjolras was about to retort, about to scold her for being so careless and naive when the sound of drums echoed through the long stretch of the road. People, young and old, rich and poor, men and women gathered by the sides to pay their respects to the fallen 'man of the people'.

Where the people see this as a loss, the government see this as an occasion. No doubt the parliament is now celebrating the death of their rival while the poor had come to the procession to mourn. Lines of drummers came first, each note echoed their heartbeat and slowly, a black horse drawn carriage was accompanied by the official military pomp.

Enjolras clenched his hands as the first line marched in front of them. When the black carriage arrived, he waves the crimson flag and with his first wave, all other flags scattered among the crowd, waving them and chanting the words "_Vive le France! Vive le Lamarque!_" Their cries echoed through Paris, the wind carried their voices throughout the gates and for all of the whole France to hear.

Thenardier hacked a cough before he spat out a wad of spittle on the corner. He leaned on the wall and watched the Patron-Minette work their way through the throngs of spectators; pickpocketing the people of their money and jewelry. Babette returned with a fancy necklace his wife would love to get her claws on, Montparnasse came back with a pouch full of francs and sous and Brujon... he must have lost his way. The man has little to no sense of direction, so it should be no surprise to him that the _crétin_ would one day wander off to the bars of the coppers. Claquesous insisted on staying in the shadows for the meantime, promising to aid them in another mugging. Parnasse watched 'yond the crowd before he felt his jaw dropped. He nudged the bemused Thenardier who answered with a sharp "Wot?!"

"Oy boss, ain't tha' Eponine over ther'?"

With a hand over the men and women's heads, Thenardier pushed the little boy who was standing on a crate and used it to take a better look. His eyes never lie, there was his daughter wearing a man's clothing and stood next to a bourgeois student who was waving a red flag, chanting the same words they're all shouting.

'Ain't they the revolutionary boys?' he asked himself, trying to recall any information on them in his mind. Yes, it wouldn't be unusual to see her with them but she always accompanied the gangly youth with a freckled face and brown locks. This one was entirely different, and if his still sharp memory serves him right, that'd be the leader. The blond hair and that loud voice that irritates him whenever they make some ruckus near the town square. He had to give them some gratitude though, the more idiots flocking to hear their 'speeches', the more opportunity they can get to rob someone. He whistled to Parnasse and whispered in his ear, "Get the boys ready. We're going to have a little reunion with the slut of a daughter o' mine"

* * *

Eponine shouted 'til her voice gone hoarse, the rush of adrenaline that filled her veins vanished as soon as the last of the soldiers vanished from their view. Some of the civilians followed them while others, like the Les Amis, gathered together and begun to walk towards café Musain. Enjolras let out a rather loud exhale that made Combeferre look at him with concern, "Are you ill my friend?"

"No, just tired. But we must carry on, we still need to plan out everything" he grated out, adding more pressure in his legs so it could carry him faster.

Eponine lagged behind with Grantaire who was groaning, "I really need some gin right now" She rolled her eyes and continued listening to his rants before Courfeyrac loudly wondered, "Has anyone seen Marius?" For a second or less, she froze before she went on as though she didn't hear anything. "Aha, maybe he was busy looking for his lady love?" Grantaire teased.

"Ahh to love young is something so beautiful and so pure" Prouvaire swooned, waving his hand in a flamboyant manner that Eponine stopped herself from commenting in rude words to the poet.

"Eponine, I need you here!"

Enjorlas' voice called her out of her stupor and ran towards him, not paying attention to the wicked glances that of Grantaire and Joly's before they snickered and Joly whispered, "Is this the beginning of love for our forlorn Enjolras?"

Grantaire snorted as he walked by his friend's side, "I bet fifty francs and my whole beer keg that Eponine would be the first to show motives my friend."


	4. Author's Note

Author's note:

No this is not a chapter but a future notice that this piece might be taken down because of lack of reviews. I had noticed that every chapter had a hundred hits each and out of a dozen alerts, the only ones had reviewed this were: Warblette, PerkyTurkeyBaby and BellePheonix (Cherie, I know you've told me you like this fic and it's because of you that it even reached as far as the last chapter. You can ask me anything in return)

Now I know that this is selfish but I do have the right to ask for reviews because as a writer, it gives us inspiration to write better and it gives us the idea that we're not writing bullshit. And since this was going nowhere, I should just take this down to avoid incomplete stories piling in my account. Before you could spam with me hate mails; I know it sounded selfish but the odds of me continuing a story that no one appreciates is about 5 % and I don't want anyone who believed in this story to suffer but circumstances are that this will be taken down within a week or so.

Am I scaring you to review? I don't know. Most of the authors I had befriended here had said they've all done this once or maybe in their a/n's and it's up to you all to interpret. If any of you will give a good reason why I should continue this then tell me and I will reconsider.

Consider this as a part of a long forgotten writer's protest.


	5. Choice

A/N: Yes, the story's back. I want to thank those who had shown support in this stories and I want to thank them from the very bottom of my heart. A friend of mine gave me a very important piece of advice and he said,

**"A writer's inspiration comes from reviews but we can't deny that we also take pride in giving the happiness to the readers whether they appreciated it or not. If you want some support, just ask them. If they don't, it's their problem. Just remember why you wrote this story for and don't ever forget those who gave their love to your story as well."**

So I will continue this story under one condition; out of those fourteen alert readers, **I will need five reviews at least to continue**. Selfish? Yes, yes I am but I will write chapters longer and updates faster.

The ones who made this story possible are: **BellePheonix**, **PerkyTurkeyBaby**, **Linsdsey** and **SusanaLovesRowling**

Tune in every two to three days after I have acquired five reviews for an update since I will edit this story.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Victor Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper.

* * *

**From Me, To You**

* * *

One would have assumed that everyone in Les Amis had made great progress but instead, here they are; arguing and raising their voices to one another. While others had voiced out their worry over the potential danger of gathering outsiders, some had been reluctant of having Eponine within the inner circle. It was common knowledge with anyone who had a sense to never trust a Thenardier (Gavroche was never considered one) and a woman to boot.

The others, mostly consisting the founders, had defended Eponine's stand from the nay-sayers as they pointed out that she might be a spy for the police. Enjolras had to shout above their own yells, silencing them as he slammed his hands on the table, ignoring the sound of a mug shattering on the floor.

Eponine shuddered as she watched his face ablaze with fury; his comrades have a common fear of Enjorlas' wrath though she never had seen the full extent of his anger. Grantaire once whispered to her that it was something she shouldn't wish to see and swore that they were banned from their former meeting place because the leader had destroyed every chair and window. But she had a sneaking suspicion that the man might be exaggerating for her sake or for his entertainment because it sent a shiver on her spine as she imagined it in her mind.

Then she heard the most outrageous thing, someone from the opposite side of the room had the gull to say- "Why should we listen to that two-bit slut? Even if she's your mistress, she can't just waltz in and give orders!"

"I am not his mistress_, I belong to no man_!" she hissed, she began to advance towards a man who scoffed at this, eager to teach him a lesson before she was held back by Courfeyrac and before she could escape his grip, it was Enjolras who kept her in her place. He held up a hand towards them before he turned to the other group, "The only mistress I have is France and my love is Patria. I shall vouch for Eponine if that's what it takes for her to earn her place. Remember what we're here for!" he grounded out, his teeth grated. They were getting off the topic. To think he was optimistic earlier on.

When they arrived at Cafe Musain, Eponine took one of their maps of the city and began to mark various spots and insisted they should talk to the citizens who lived there. Some had protested against it; thieves and street gangs had dwelled on those spots and there were whispers that the woman had taken upon herself to order them around under the guise of sharing a bed with their leader. Enjolras had not anticipated this kind of reaction from them, he had assumed they all would come into a nonverbal agreement that they will accept all plans he had in mind.

"Let her have her chance," Combeferre offered, "Tomorrow we will have another demonstration near the chapel of Rue Plummet and see if we could gain some support and maybe they would lend their strength for the barricades." The offer was appealing and while they were reluctant, they begrudgingly agreed to meet at the block not far from the church.

Eponine frowned at this, of all the grounds to cover, they had to do it where Marius had first laid eyes on 'her'. She couldn't even bear to even say her name without poison. Maybe in time she will come in terms with the sad reality that Marius will never be hers but right now, she has to nurse a wound that no one could heal but herself. And she had this matter to deal with. In the world of men, a girl like her won't be heard unless there was no other choice. With Enjolras bearing the final word, they will do nothing against his orders.

The memebers of Les Amis de l'ABC scattered from the café; one by one they walked out, some in groups while others went about their way for their daily routine. Eponine sat next to Courfeyrac as she watched Enjorlas and the others highlighting the focus of their speech. It really amazed her on how much these young men have to endure. They risked their safety for the sake of others and all the while they strived to protect their rights as the people of the country.

A sound from the window caught her attention. The others didn't hear it so she took it upon herself to check. And it was the right choice since she saw Montparnasse leaning on the wall with a handful of pebbles. When he saw her, he sent a roguish smile that will make the weaker ladies swoon, and yet she was immune by his charms and venemous beauty. He tilted his head towards the side of the alley and lo, there stood her father; watching the streets with a sharp eye. Of course, Parnasse wouldn't step a foot near café Musain except when he comes to call on Eponine on their earlier days. But the mere presence of her father made her think this was not a leisure visit.

Something sinister always happens whenever they would come to call and it would usually end with her earning another scar or a new set of welts on her arms and legs. The worst one was out of a fit in drunken rage, he smashed her head on a discarded sheet of glass and they left her there bleeding. She had to pick herself, drops of blood trickling from her head to the ground. The doctor had quite the fright to see her leaning on the door with blood pouring on her white chemise and brown skirt.

A shudder crept in her entire system as Parnasse gestured her to come forth. Looking over her shoulder, everyone was still busy planning, though she did expose a grin when she saw Joly hit Grantaire with a thin scroll on the head. With a deep intake of breath, she walked towards Enjolras and whispered in his ear, "I will come back later."

She must've annoyed him since he cringed when her breath tickled his ear. He just shrugged and waved his hand. With that, she ran out of the cafe and cautiously approached her old acquaintance.

"Bonjour 'Ponine. Had fun runnin' 'round with a new circle?"

* * *

_"I will come back later"_

Her breath had hit his ear and neck. He cringed at the newfound sensation as her voice echoed into his mind. Well, he'll just let her scurry around but he was far from letting her just come and go as she pleases. She has a part in this and he won't let her get away from that responsibility she so graciously bestowed upon herself.

Grantaire took a swig from his mug and mumbled, "Is it a wise choice to let Eponine lead the speech tomorrow? The people might ignore us if Eponine was to speak in front instead of you Enjolras"

"They will listen" he replied, though his tone suggested he was more in reassuring himself, "She knows their hardships, this will give us the advantage of gaining their trust. Able bodied men might even join in the barricade"

"But how will we be sure that they won't give us away to the law?" Grantaire challenged.

"We will give them the same chance with the chance we have given to the others"

Enjorlas' tone was firm. Now is the real trial; the inner circle has their doubts as well. Not for Eponine but on how they will execute the plan and placing a woman in front of the crowd to persuade them was the last thing in their minds. The last time they tried ask for their help, all they got was a couple of jeers and argot phrases that might have been cursing from what Gavroche's reactions were.

But what choice do they have? Now that Lamarque's funeral was a sign they purposely missed, only of Eponine's idea did they find that they were really unprepared for what was to come. If they had gone along with the barricades, by now they would have been outnumbered, out resourced and executed within an hour whence it started.

Bahorel scratched his chin gently, "What about the guns and cartridges? We're lacking the number of guns to people and we had to prepare the next batch to fire."

"And we have to find a place where we can hide if things have gone awry" Lesgles piped in. It sounded cowardly but it was better to be called that than wasting your life for naught.

Enjorlas finally surrendered to the possibility that they needed an escape route. He always wished that the revolution would be simple; fight, be heard and hope that it will reach the ears of those in power and give the people what they want. But as the days passed, that point of view became a fantasy for an idealist and it would just result into an unwanted bloodshed.

And yet, while he wavered with his stand, he never opted to back down from the cause. But while they always took him seriously, they were more half-hearted towards waging a war against those in power. With the monarchs, particularly. The odds of them leaving the barricades alive were so far away that it would make anyone just turn around and leave it at that.

"Very well. Eponine had said something about the catacombs.."

**-x-**

A harsh sound of a hand connecting to skin echoed through the alleyway near the square. A tall and lanky red-haired man hovered over the young gamin with a sneer on his gaunt face before he lifted her up by her dirty brown hair.

Eponine knew that she was already on the border of slipping into unconsciousness but she knew she had to fight it or she will be succumbed to even more abuse. Every part of her body screamed in pain and blood slowly flowed from her mouth and even more so on her forehead.

_'That will need some stitches'_ she thought on the back of her mind as a thin river of blood trickled between her eyes and on the left side of her nose. The members of Patron-Minette looked bored and Brujon had even smoked a pipe while watching as if they were witnessing a play. Everyone except Parnasse.

He flinched and turned away whenever Thenardier's fist would hit her. A slap for a cheeky reply and a swift punch on the stomach for her punishment when she spat on his face. He only thought that the man would only threaten her but it escalated in a dangerous level of rage.

Thenardier backed her into a corner and asked her what she was doing with those boys. "Comforting them by warming their beds eh? Or is it only the dark blonde one you're currently laying with? The one you wanted didn't even notice you so you opened your legs to his friend" he sneered before he tipped her head up by yanking her hair back. She held her tongue so that he couldn't get the answer he wanted. That made him very much angry; he was the type of man who will get what he wants.

With little effort, he threw her to the wall that was filled with wooden crates. Her face landed on the middle crate that caused a large gash on her forehead, right above the left eyebrow. Eponine's body protested against the broken pieces of wood that poked her body, her hands were filled with several splinters that entered her fingers and palms. A cough escaped her as she tried to breathe but she was lifted up by the collar of her dress and flung against the cold cement.

"I'm asking you again you hussy," Thenardier growled, "Where do they keep their money? Those guns and cartridges must have come from somewhere!"

"I told you I don't know!" she yelped, it was already difficult for her breathe let alone talk. Her lungs have yet to regain the oxygen she had lost during his beatings and her pounding heartbeat echoed in her ears.

He kept asking where the group keeps their money and even if she knows, she would never betray them. She doubts they even have some francs to spare. Marius had once told her that they acquired the weapons from the markets where old weapons were sold in a cheap price. Or some were found on the old battlefields outside of the city. But her father wouldn't believe her. He knew that Marius was well-off and assumed that the others were as well.

With a final kick on her stomach, he kneeled to her level, his brown eyes echoed the promise of pain and intimidacy that only he could succeed in doing so, "Cross out paths one more time like what you did in Rue Plummet and I promise you, you will wish I had sent you to the docks instead." The threat rang the truth behind it and she was smart enough to heed this. A lump formed in her throat, disabling her to form a verbal response so a nod was all he got.

Thenardier gathered the spittle in his mouth and spat it to her direction before he turned his back and walked towards the shadows, the Patron-Minette followed close behind. Parnasse hesitated to turn away but a stern look from her father made him do so and left her there, beaten in the alley.

Eponine wiped her face, not minding the blood that marred her skin and the grime that attached themselves on her entire form. The muscles on her arms and upper extremeties throbbed, her bottom lip felt raw and her sight was all but clear. All she could hear was the dripping of water from a cracked pipe and the sound of people talking were like a mile away from where she lay. Had it been mere minutes or maybe hours? She had no idea, she counted the seconds by the throb of her pain and with that rate, she might have counted to a year.

The beam of sunlight that peeked through the hole of a roof above her caused her to cut her sight. She could only close her eyes to shield it from the intense light as her arms felt as if they were made from stone.

A shadow covered the light and made her open her weary eyes. It was the outline of a person, though she could not distinguish if it was man or a woman and yet she did not care. Do what they want; she had no strength to fight.

The blood from her forehead flowed strongly and made her feel lightheaded. The edges of her sight were blurred with darkness and she could feel her consciousness slipping from her grip. A voice called out to her, maybe it was her name but she couldn't really understand. The world around her started spinning and as soon as she was losing herself, she just let it her consciousness go.

* * *

"Enjolras! Enjolras!"

Courfeyrac's panicked cry jolted Enjolras from his planning and stood up to look for his brother in arms. The other men with him and gasped at the sight of the blood on his shirt. "Eponine's been attacked!" he informed them, "She was bleeding heavily from her head."

Enjolras felt a stinging sensation on his chest as he walked towards his friend with long strides. "Who had done this to her?"

"There were no witnesses, no suspect to point. I went out to buy some bread when I saw her lying on the dark alley way bleeding" he reported, a quiver in his voice suggested that he was still rattled from his find and his hands were shaking as he gripped the rail of the staircase.

"Where is she?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Courfeyrac wiped his sweaty forehead and cleared his throat, "I took her to the hospital near Rue d'Anges, and the doctors are tending to her wounds right now." The man nodded and ran to the said hospital, leaving the others gawking at his wake.

* * *

He had always been strong, or he believes he was. But the hospital was a haunting place of sickness or death. A strong smell of chemicals and disinfectants were evident from every door and as he walked from room to room, he stopped on the last room to the right and saw a nurse wiping the sleeping Eponine's face with a wet cloth.

The woman, with salt and pepper hair that peeked from her habit looked at him and asked, "Do you know this woman?"

"I am a friend" he answered.

"She had a cut on her lip and a nasty gash on her forehead. Her rib were cracked from her left side and the bruises on her arms and legs were fresh but the scars..." she trailed off and lightly took off a sleeve of her hospital dress. A very deep scar ran from her shoulder and surely it ran to her stomach. But even more scars that looked as if it was caused by broken glasses left jagged cuts all over her. A wave of nausea hit him and a sense of helplessness swallowed him like the sea.

He knew Eponine led a rough life but he didn't believe it would be this brutal. He came to her side as he thought she was punished by Javert's men for a crime of affiliating with them. But those men would have placed her in jail, not leaving he out on an alley where she could escape and file a report. Was it a robbery? She didn't have anything valuable with her and all she has was the clothes she wore. Was it even a random attack? A voice in his head murmured of Thenardier and the Patron-Minette.

He did not notice the nurse had already left; leaving the two of them alone with her sign of life was the slow rise and fall of her chest. A hand suddenly clamped his shoulder which made him turn around. There stood Marius with a shocked look on his face.

The Pontmercy kneeled down to her side and carefully caressed her cheek. His breathing was harsh as he stroked her hair away from her face and spoke in a softest of voices, "What happened?"

"I do not have any details more so than you. I just came here as soon as I heard of this."

"_Qui_...?"

"Courfeyrac. He went to buy bread when he saw her and took her here." Somehow, he wanted to make his reply as curt as possible. He fully turned to Marius and crossed his arms, "You weren't in Lamarque's funeral or at the meeting. Where have you been?"

Marius dipped his head low, as if he was thinking hard on his answer before he looked at Enjorlas straight in the eye and said, "I went to Cosette's father and pledged my love for her. I told him everything about me... even the Les Amis de l'ABC." Enjolras felt his hand itching to hit the young man on the back of his head. He clenched his hand into a fist and wiped his hand on his face in a frustrated manner, "Do you realize what you have done?!" he hissed in a low voice, "What if the man has connections with the law? He could have us all hanged!"

"The man sees no harm coming from us" Marius argued back, "All he told me was that I have to choose between the revolution and Cosette-"

"And what is your answer?" Enjorlas challenged.

The brunette opened his mouth but no sound came. Instead, he hung his head down like a convict waiting for his sentence to be delivered. Enjorlas stared at him with narrow eyes and said, "I see..."

He licked his chapped bottom lip and held him by the cuff of his coat. Marius was alarmed when Enjorlas began to pull him towards the door and growled, "You made your choice, your emotions against your friends and what we fight for. You have no ties with us, no longer are you a friend of Les Amis de l'ABC-"

"I am part of this revolution as anyone else!"

"You chose to follow your selfish desire rather than the fate of others, that's not the kind of man we need in the group"

"And what of Eponine?" he cried out, "I intend to see if she's well and in good hands-"

"Eponine will _not _be your business any longer" Enjorlas boomed in the harshest tone he'd ever spoken, "She's now a member and she made her loyalty clear. Just as you did. As of now Marius Pontmercy, you are not allowed near Café Musain and we will not recognize you as one of our own." He closed the door on his face, didn't even pause to give a look of pity as Marius' face contorted with rejection and grief…

He knew he had taken this too personally but the cold stab of betrayal run deep that it gave no room for mercy or consideration. To see him act so lovingly with Eponine while he has a woman waiting for him was the final straw. They had given him a choice and he had chosen what he wanted. Now he'll just have to live with the consequence. The sun still hung so high on the heavens but gray clouds began to cover the blue skies. He took one look at the still sleeping woman before he leaned on the wall and watched the slight flashes of lightning within the rumbling clouds.

* * *

_"Oh Eponine you look so darling in that little blue dress of yours!" Madame Thenardier praised as her six year old daughter skipped to her open arms. This was before they lost the inn.  
_  
Maman would complement me in every way and papa would hug me and kiss my forehead every time I come up to him. But nothing lasts forever...

_"Maman, where are my dresses?" a tearful Eponine questioned as her mother gave her a raggedy gray dress that Cosette once used. "We have to sell it. Now wipe yer snot off yer face and give me the doll!"  
_  
The nine year old sniffled as her mother swiped her doll and placed it in a basket along with her other clothes and bonnets. She never went hungry so when she went through a day without a scrap to eat, she began to fuss and whine. And it made Thenardier very, very angry.

_"Will you keep quiet you noisy wench!" he growled and slapped her with the back of his hand. Shock filled her entire system that she just stared at her father with a red mark on her cheek._

It was the first of the many slaps he will give her.

_"Maman loves you~"_

"You're papa's little girl, yes you are!"

Liars, she thought, those praises and kisses and hugs are nothing more than lies. No more... no more lies...

A hot flash of pain on her head made her gasp for breath. She opened her eyes and saw a ceiling and curtains around her. The bed was soft and in the color of snow. She couldn't lift her head so she looked around and saw a figure near the window. The curtains made it hard for her to know the identity of that person but his features suggested that he is a man. In the deepest part of her heart, she prayed for it to be Marius. To give her even a slight sense of false hope that he does care.

Her heart dropped when the curtain fluttered open and revealed it was Enjolras. Although she was disappointed for not having her expectations met, she also felt a great deal of gratitude for the man. It was not his duty to care for her but he did it anyway, it made her feel really special.

But what a look on his face! It was a face he revealed not too long ago that made her sick to the stomach as if she was punched repeatedly by Brujon. But this time, it was so much different as well; he had formerly made a feat of depression but this... Can you even make an expression out of pure anger? His eyes was focused outside of the window, his mouth was set in a straight line and void of any emotion except for the v-shape of his eyebrows. His hands were on his side and his stance was taut. The cold, moist air entered the building; it ruffled his honey-coloured hair before slowly he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

He whispered something to the wind, letting only the ever silent gale know what was in his mind and heart. Slowly, she wished to also know the burden he carried so that she could also help him. It was an odd action since she wasn't even a very helpful person at all. At least, if it doesn't benefit her.

The wound on her forehead started to itch and her mouth tasted like copper. The bed, while soft and comforting, started to make her feel restrained and overall useless. Two things she'd hated.

An unwilling yelp escaped her mouth when she shifted her weight to her side. The sound alerted Enjorlas that she was awake and was in a great deal of pain. Before she could even try to sit up, he already tucked her back in again.

"The nurse says you have a cracked rib. It would be better you would just stay still" he muttered, his eyes distant as if he was just talking mechanically.

"But I don't want to stay in bed" she pouted.

Her childish response made him crack a small smile on his mask of indifference, "I think you can manage."

The nurse came by and shooed him away so that she could change the bandages and clean up the wounds. Enjorlas said that he will have to return to the café but promised to come back with some company. It made her very much happy, but unable to distinguish the source whether it was because she will have more people to accompany her or because he told her that he will return.

"That man" she sighed as she shook her head. The nurse, a very gossipy one, noticed her sigh and asked, "What of the monsieur, mademoiselle?" Eponine shook her head again in accordance to dodging the question. "Was he the one who brought me here?" she asked.

"Ah no he didn't, it was another monsieur with dark hair. Quite a terrible fright when he brought you here, he did" the nurse answered as she folded the clean strip of gauze and carefully helped her sit up and took of the old bandage on her forehead. Another wave of disappointment washed over her but this time, she had no idea why. Surely she had to be entirely grateful that it was someone else who saw her at her vulnerable state.

* * *

"How was she?"

Enjorlas won't lie; he was indeed surprised when he took the last step to the second floor when Courfeyrac was already in front of him with a worried expression.

"Relax 'Feyrac," Grantaire said as he slumped on the table with his mug in his hand, "'Ponine is a tough one, why I bet that she'd been through a whole lot worse!"

"Grantaire!" Feuilly chided, "Be more sensitive about what you say!"

Enjolras shook his head a bit before he turned to Courfeyrac, "She's fine. By the way she tried to leave the bed; I'm afraid I have to agree with Grantaire."

He noticed the other man let out a deep breath and smiled at the floorboards and noticed Joly throwing an arm arounnd his neck and whispered something in Courfeyrac's ear that made him flushed. Enjorlas then told them to resume the plans which made the men groan, Grantaire sloshed the last of his ale and drunkenly cried "Vive le France!"

* * *

It was already dark when they left the café. Prouvaire sends his wishes and love to Eponine and Lesgles was talked into going home and promised him that they will send his regards to the wounded girl. The walk tothe hospital was a brief and quiet one except for Grantaire who suddenly hum a song which Enjorlas had no idea what it was.

They entered the hospital and went straight to her room where they found her eating some soup. She looked up and gave them a bright smile despite the fact she had a bandage on her forehead and her chest was tightly wrapped with white gauze. "Now where is my saviour?" she teased.

Someone, probably Grantaire if Enjorlas would have guessed, pushed Courfeyrac forward to her bed. The others chuckled and teased when Courfeyrac glared at them before Eponine told him to come closer and landed a kiss on the unsuspecting man's cheek. Courfeyrac blushed horribly and placed a hand over the spot her lips met his cheek while the others whistled and teased some more. Enjorlas cocked his head to the side slightly, what's with this reaction? And why did she kiss him? He could only reason put the second question was that she was grateful and did what she did as a sign of thanks. But that smile on Courfeyrac had said otherwise.

The nurse entered the room; her eyes widened at the male visitors and told Eponine that she could go, just mind her wounds. "Next time don't jump over rooftops!" the woman warned, "You are not a pigeon you know!"

The men looked at her which she dodged as she sat up and placed her feet on the ground. Her feet were heavily bandaged as well so she wobbled when she tried to stand.

It was a hilarious sight when they all moved to steady her; some had bumped on the table while Joly almost elbowed an empty flower vase. Eponine held up her hands and stated, "Ça va bien, I'm fine!" Combeferre approached her and offered to carry her, which she declined as politely as she could.

They all walked out of the building, eager to prepare for tomorrow when Feuilly suddenly asked what Eponine had been hoping they would forget,

"What on earth happen to you _mon petite_? Who did such a horrid thing to you?"

All eyes now bore to her. Cold sweat poured over her body and her palms grew cold, the evening air had nothing to with the chill that racked her frame. How would she explain it? _Could_ she even begin to think of telling them about her scars and the stories behind them? She bit the side of her cheek and pinched her hands with her nails.

"It was a robbery..." she whispered, afraid they would catch the lie, "I wasn't paying much attention when they caught me from behind."

"Why didn't you scream? Or yell for help?" Combeferre asked.

"They placed a cloth on my mouth and blindfolded as well so that I couldn't see their faces" she said, the words flowed smoothly from her tongue and it sounded so natural.

Grantaire growled and cracked his knuckles, "Of we ever catch those bâtards, we'll make them pay!" he promised. He started to lead her to the streets when she stopped. He pulled a face and she answered his unspoken question, "I live somewhere else now. Near the Sevine." She didn't want anyone to know that she was staying with Enjolras for fear that this will fan the flames of rumors that was already spreading.

"I will escort her," Enjorlas prompted, taking her arm as gently as he could. Grantaire and Joly shared a look and quietly chuckled, their suspicions had been validated and all they wanted to do was watch the story unravel itself. Coufeyrac, however, made a move to join the two.

"Let me come as well," he insisted.

"No, we have to prepare for tomorrow. You have to take your rest as well"

His tone was final and Courfeyrac had no choice but to watch the two walk through the cold night in the foggy streets. The night sky began to rumble and within moments, a thin spray of rain began to fall.

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? Review please. NO FLAMES.

Rue d'anges: Street of Angels


	6. At The Square

A/N: Whoa, I asked for five and I got seven ( or was it six?) I love you all so much~! Now to respond with your awesome reviews :)

**SusanaLovesRowling:** ah you deserve it _ma chere_! And in Les Miserables, you have to expect the unexpected. Even the pairings ;)

**BellePhoenix:** It's nice to hear from you too cherie. And as I have promised, an early update just for you :)

**PerkyTurkeyBaby:** Let's wait and see J Is it a platonic or romantic one? Hmmmm…

**PhoenixGirl97**: Well thank you for liking the story and I have to admit I incorporated the darker nature of Patron-Minette from the book. Now the fluff thing, hmmm, I don't really follow about how it turned fluffy because it means 'feel good' and some E/E pairings are filled with them. I dunno. Maybe it was the quote, "Broken people are meant to be together" that was to blame xD But I'm not trying to write fluff romance in this story.

**crimebuff**: Oh thank you thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this one :)

**OnginalMaz**: I appreciate your honesty. My best friend and mentor already told me that with cited examples but told me that it's also alright to 'quota' reviews because, let's face it, some writers (like me) update faster because we know that people are reading our story and their feedbacks are our guidelines to see if what we were writing was good or getting boring. It would also serve as a great guideline because I would sometimes, unintentionally, write them in OOC which I disliked and they would tell me so I would correct it myself. Thanks for reading :)

Random memes: I asked my friend (after watching Les Mis for the nth time) why Hugo had to kill all my favorite characters (Eponine, Gavroche, the whole Les Amis). And she told me, "Well, it was titled _Les Miserables_ right? Maybe he wants you to be miserable too. Do you think anyone would cry hysterically if Cosette died?" And I my answer was, "... no" (Sorry Cosette fans)

Okay, that's it then. Please leave any comments, questions and suggestions via reviews and they will be noted. Constructive criticisms are welcome but please, no flames. Tune in every two to three days after I have acquired five reviews for an update.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Victor Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper.

* * *

**From Me, To You**

* * *

"What happened to you?"

The man's question sliced through the silence of his home as he stoked the fire. Eponine daren't even try to lie to him, he would just catch her on yet another one. Saying something terrible about what she had gone through was not her exact way of passing time with someone she wasn't so close to. The rain pelted the windows and left shadows of droplets that reflected on the floor.

A night like this made her remember the time when she led Marius to the secluded cottage behind the convent of Rue Plummet. His face had lit up like a room filled with candles when he saw Cosette.

The very night that her papa tried to pillage and kill the old man, and the rain that poured over her as she cried for her unrequited love for her best friend. Maybe things would have been different if she had let them go through with their plans- stop! A sudden realization had befallen her as she thought of the gruesome possibility; she was starting to think like her father. If she hadn't met Marius, she would have let them do what they please with the both of them.

In brutal truth, she would have been as cruel and bitter as Thenardier if Marius hadn't shown her a bit of kindness that might have saved whatever shred of humanity and compassion she had left on that fateful day...

"Eponine?"

A voice, so foreign from the flashes of her memories made her blink away from the vague nostalgia and returned to the present. No cold cemented room. No cruel parents and bloodthirsty gang members. No frequent walks with Marius between afternoons. No Marius at all. She found herself within the four walls of a small flat with Enjorlas and bandages all over her body.

"I... must have dozed off. What was it you asked me monsieur?" she asked in a dazed tone.

He looked at her by the corner of his eye; her face was blank of any expression and her eyes were focused on the dripping droplets on the window. He didn't believe a word the girl had said before, he was no fool. She grew up with thieves and a pickpocket herself, it made no sense that she will be a victim of a profession she had from experience. Dodging and changing the subject was a sign that she'd not been very truthful.

Nonetheless, if she didn't want to share, he would let her be. She's her own person and he wouldn't dare press anymore matters if it will cause trouble. "Forget it. You must have a good night's sleep and regain your strength. We should be in the square by noon tomorrow."

Eponine said nothing as she stood up and slowly went to the room, closing the door as quietly as she could. What was she expecting; he will play the sympathy card on her? Well, she did actually. She had anticipated that he will badger her with questions and even plead her to answer him honestly but he remained silent. On the other hand, she was also grateful that he didn't; she wasn't in the spirit of fending off unwanted questions that might be too close for comfort. Enjolras was the sort of person who wants to be straight to the point and he was focused to one thing and that was the freedom of the people from the economical wall and the corrupt who sought after power and wealth.

Sleep began to come to her as soon as she slipped under the cover. Her eyelids began to flutter and before she knew what was happening, she was already in her safe place where the colors and shapes mixed and there were no tears and anger. Just happiness and contentment.

* * *

Gavroche bit through a stale baguette as he settled on top of the head of the elephant statue. He noticed that Inspector Javert had been roaming through the streets even more than usual with a forbidding look on his aging face. His underlings that were usually shadowing him were absent and his usually posh and immaculate uniform was now a bit untidy and he walked around in a rather hunched form, countering his usual poker straight strut.

"Oi Gavroche! They're here!"

One of his friends, Jean Claude, stood in front of the marbled beast's foot and waved his hat to him. The boy slid down the hole and worked his way down to the ground by climbing on the wooden planks that served as the 'skeleton' of the unfinished statue. His sister had warned him about staying in the statue but he said that it made him feel mature, having to live by himself and be resourceful, and at the same time retain his imagination as a child. Whenever he sat on top of the statue, he felt as if he was the unseen protector of the city. He can see almost everything up there, from the baker's shop in Rue Plummet to the gardens of the nuns in Notre Dame, he felt important.

He joined the Les Amis because they listened to him. It was hard to be a child who had no voice in any matter and he reckoned he's twice smarter than most adults, which some will agree. Courfeyrac was his favorite person in the group; he never had an older brother and while he loves Eponine, she can't be a role model he needed and Courfeyrac was the type of person he'll follow.

Jean Claude placed his hat back to his head as Gavroche jumped from the chute and joined his friend. "There's a demonstration near Rue Plummet!" the buck-toothed boy said as they wove through the crowd.

Gavroche frowned a bit, he heard that a new member would be speaking and it didn't take a scholar to know that it was Eponine. He wondered how the people will react. Last time they tried to have a demonstration, several thugs had insulted them and some had even threw fruits at them. It was a good thing though; at least he got free food.

A platform was placed in the middle of the square and several members of the group began handing out patches and pamphlets. People started to gather, their faces mixed with curiosity and amusement; they might have thought that they were staging a show. He saw a flash of dark yellow hair from the huddled heads on the side of the stage and he automatically steered his direction towards the man.

Enjolras bit the edge of his tongue as he listened to the complains of the men, "We will be disgraced!", "We will be mocked," "How do you expect people to listen to a woman?" One more push and he would be at the end of his rope.

"Enjolras-"

"What?!"

Bahorel flinched and placed his hands in his pockets, "The people are waiting and there are no police in sight."

"And what of Eponine?"

Combeferre suddenly appeared with a smile on his face, "She- I mean, _he's_ ready!"

The leader pulled a confused look and Combeferre laughed. The philosophy student stepped aside and there stood a young man wearing a coat and hat that covered the upper part of his face. The 'man' tilted his head a little, pushing the rim out of his face and revealed it was Eponine with a wicked smirk on her face and her bandage was covered by the portion of her hair, "If they won't listen to a woman, surely now they would listen to a man" she stated. He spotted several soot covering her face and her clothes hid her bandages.

"Why do you have to dress like this? We're not doing any theatrics!" Enjolras questioned as he eyed the tattered coat and her soiled skin. Grantaire, along with Joly and Courfeyrac chose that moment to join the conversation; "Hold your horses, we're just trying to get their attention-"

"You're trying to get their pity," the law student grounded out, "We're here to make them see the truth, not play them along like puppets to get their sympathy!"

Eponine bit her lip as she watched them debate against one another; evidently it was more of Enjolras against the other Les Amis.

She cleared her throat rather audibly and placed a hand on Enjolras' arm, "If I go out there as myself, the people won't listen and they might even turn on you. It will be in my conscience if things turned to be the undesired."

"Then you only do this for the comfort of your conscience. Do what you think is right, but don't forget that we're here for the common good."

Enjolras gave her a fleeting look of disappointment before he shrugged her hands off of him and stomped towards Feuilly and Prouvaire. Grantaire rolled his eyes and muttered, "You didn't need to act like a _connard_ about it!" Eponine looked at Combeferre who offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Don't fret about it _cheriè_, he's just..."

"A _connard_"

"Stop that Grantaire!" he eyed the other man with a stern face before he then turn to her and sighed, "He has a lot to think about. With the barricades on hold and placing you in front, he's just not in his best mood as of now."

The young Thenardier girl dipped her head low before she stole a glance at the still seething man, barking at several revolutionaries who weren't doing their share of labor.

Eponine swallowed as she saw the number of people who began to crowd around. She had never spoken to such a large number before and now, her heart pounded like it was trying to escape her chest and her palms felt sweaty. She looked up and saw a couple of doves perched on the solitary tree near the convent and hoped it was a sign for something fortunate.

'_What do I do, what do I say?_' she fretted, mentally panicking as the seconds ticked by. In a flash, she saw Gavroche leaning by the tables of a wood shop and gave her a cheeky grin. Something unfolded in her chest at the sight of her brother. It was courage that she needed, a reassurance that can only be supplied by someone dear to you.

A sudden absence of a person distracted her from Gavroche and looked around the crowd of faces. She turned towards the group but he was still not there. "Marius, where are you?" she whispered to herself. She knew that he might as well be by Cosette's side but surely he wouldn't abandon his friends... would he?

The question made her chest clench a bit before she shook her head and looked forward with determination. She had to think straight and clear her mind from other things, even if that included the handsome man.

The bells of Notre Dame tolled, it was their signal to start the demonstration and with a final deep breath, Enjolras stepped up the stage and yelled out, "People of Paris hear our voices! Let our words reach your hearts and open your eyes to what has to be done! We are here to let the corrupt hear your voices and to let them wallow in shame-"

"You say you speak for the common people but you're just students! You don't know the suffering we had to go through every day! How do we know that you're not just some group who will abandon us in times of hardship?"

A man dressed in rags and an eye-patch over his right eye challenged him. The people around him murmured and nodded in agreement.

"Who are you to say that we can change the law? Our fates had already been written and we were all born into the life of poverty. Not in the same line as privileged ones like you!"

He was about to answer when a new higher pitched voice joined in his proclamation;

"Because I was born in the gutter as well! I know the cruel process of asking alms in the streets and having to beg for crumbs from the tables. I stand before you to say that you can change your fate. Stand with us and we can assure that we are all equals. Students or workers. The poor or the bourgeois, we are all the same!"

The old man stared at her and she felt that she needed to let something out as well;

"We, the citizens of France have been suffering under the rule of those who sat on the throne! While our bellies ache and crime ruled the streets, they sit in their chairs filling their stomachs with food that was for the people! Stand with us _mes amis_! Fight for our children and for their future!"

They looked at her, not with mockery or to condemn but to hear her-

"Should we stand idly by while those police use their power for their benefit?"

A weak '_Non_' had echoed in the audience and within moments, more had begun to listen to them.

Grantaire took this as an opportunity and stepped forward with his head held high, "Will we allow the politicians to step on our dignity, our hope as they leech off the riches that were for the poor?"

"_Non_!"

Their eyes filled with anticipation and their faces filled with understanding as Eponine trudged forward, her gestures were sure and her voice was clear. Gavroche beamed widely as he saw people began to pin their patches and talked in an animated manner about joining.

"Are we going to allow those monarchs, those people who plastered their names with titles, to push us around like dirt?"

_"Non!"_

"Then join us! Let us all join arms to revolt against this corrupted government! Let us unite to end all the suffering of the common people, end to the abuse and prompt the equality between the rich and the poor! Liberate Paris, liberate France!" Enjolras ended with his fist raised above to the heavens and the people imitated the gesture with a loud battle cry.

A roar of agreement tore the very heart of Paris; their cries were so loud that one would have assumed that it carried from the gates of Paris to the border of Montfermeil. Eponine smiled as they raised their hands and began to chant "_Vive le France! Vive le France!_" She turned to Enjolras who just gave her a curt nod and yelled, "Join us in our barricade where we shall see a better tomorrow!"

Suddenly a sound of a gun being fired cut through their yells; six police officers with their guns on hand appeared from the alleys with Javert on the lead. "In the name of the law, stop this disgraceful act!" he boomed. Eponine froze; she had not seen this coming. The men, however, stood their ground and began to voice their displeasure at his interruption.

"Slave of the law!" Grantaire yelled.

"You're a puppet of the corrupt, a humiliation to your fellow man!" Lesgles fired.

Javert gritted his teeth as his eyes scanned their faces. Mere school boys who have no idea what the real world was, living in their fantasy world where no law means absolute freedom. He snorted at the thought; no law means no order and everything will fall apart. Only those who uphold the law are righteous, those who break it deserved to be punished. He had served his country for almost thirty-years and the only one who managed to slip his iron-clad grasp was prisoner 24601 who called himself Jean Valjean.

This group had been a thorn on his neck when he was transferred in Paris. Their speeches are a form of a public menace and they had threatened a fire of rebellion with the Parisians. His eyes lingered on the new man; he had seen that face before, but where?

One of the gamins had thrown a rock on one of his subordinates; the one who recently graduated from the academy, Émile. The boy, out of anger, fired openly towards the civilians which created an uproar. None was wounded but the idea of a soldier to open fire in the city had caused panic around them. People scattered like ants during a rainfall and some had taken to themselves to gang around the police individually and beat them with whatever they could get their hands on.

Enjolras felt the adrenaline rush in his veins as he ran through the streets together with his friends. "Everyone, back to the café!" he yelled, hoping they heard his call. He saw a back alley that was hidden in the shadows and side-stepped into the narrow passage and watched the civilians flee from the police who had called reinforcements. He poked his head to see the casualty and so far, there were no dire consequences, only broken carts and rocks strewn on the cobbled ground.

He slowly walked out of the alley and ran to the direction of the cafe with a secret smile in his lips. Their message had been heard and some had even joined to battle in the barricades. Everything had gone according to plan after all.

* * *

Everything didn't go as Eponine had wanted; she was separated from the group and now a cop had captured her and tied a rope on her hands. She tried to stomp at his feet but he retaliated by cuffing her at the back of her head.

She was brought to the police headquarters and thrown into a vacant cell. 'Not again' she thought. The man scoffed at her before he walked out with a smirk on his face; no doubt he was relishing his first time to capture someone. The bars were eaten by rust and the cell itself smelled awful like it was bathed in urine. Without any choice, she settled on leaning on the bars but still kept her hat. A pair of polished boots entered her vision and she looked up to see the face of Inspector Javert.

"You're the Thenardier girl. There's no use hiding that fact" he said. His hat was removed and she could see his hair turning gray and his face had grown weary with age.

"What if I am? We did nothing wrong" she answered, glaring at him with all her might.

Javert clenched his fist lightly, calling forth several cracks on his hand that made the girl flinch, "You have caused the greatest crime. You are part of the plan to overthrow the government and lay waste on France."

"France was already wasted by the likes of the king and his subjects" she hissed. A fierce emotion erupted from her and it didn't go unnoticed by the old inspector.

"And when did a common thief ever have any compassion for the state of others? You are like your father, maggots of the streets and the scum of society"

*"_Je ne suis rien comme lui_!" she shouted, slamming her hand against the bars. Her hands throbbed with renewed pain but she didn't pay any thought of it.

Javert grunted as he leaned away from the bars, "People don't change. A con would always be a con and you have lived your life being one. Face the truth thief, you are what you are and no amount of good deeds can undo the crimes that you and your family had done."

Eponine's eyes stung as she felt tears welling around them and his words echoed in her brain. She tried to block them out but it didn't ease the sting that pieced her heart and soul. The truth is what pains her; the truth that she only promised to help Enjolras because she needed a distraction.

_'You don't care about anyone but yourself'_ a sinister voice whispered

_'That's not true! I care a great deal about my friends!'_

_'You only care for Marius because you wanted his love. You only show care for Gavroche because you feel it was your obligation as a sibling, not because you love him. You can't love because you yourself hadn't given love. You are selfish; you deserved to be on the rack. You don't deserve friends. You are your parents' daughter. You only deserve death!'_

And with that, Eponine broke down.

Javert left the crying girl on her cell. Had he stoop so low that he will make a woman cry? No, he hadn't. No one is above the law, whether it was a man or a woman, a child or an elder; the law was to be followed. He was brought up by a policeman who took pity on him and gave him a home. But it changed when a mugger, the very person who he had shown mercy, stabbed him in the side and left him for dead.

Something inside him changed after that. He shed his old name and fostered the name Javert from his surrogate father and studied under the most revered police academy. He graduated on the top of his class and yet, that prisoner had evaded him for almost twenty years and still insisted he had done nothing wrong except steal a loaf of bread.

"Inspector, there's someone who wanted to pay for parole" Émile announced with a young man behind him. Javert faced the stranger with a blank stare, "And what is your business here monsieur?"

"I'm here to pay for the parole of the captured revolutionary."

"And why do you think you can just pay?"

"Because you have no evidence that he had done anything wrong so it's against the law."

Javert felt his lips twitch at the sight of the man. But he was right about the holding of a suspect. He turned to Émile and ordered him to release the prisoner. Émile looked as if he wanted to object but held his tongue and opened the cell.

Eponine scrambled to get up and gently stroked the area where the rope chaffed her wrists. "Why...?"

"Silence vermin! Your parole's been paid" the man sneered and pushed her forward to the man who rescued her. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man.

**-x-**

"You mean she still hasn't return?" Enjolras asked in an incredulous tone as he sat on the chair. Courfeyrac nodded slowly while Grantaire drank, miraculously, water that was offered by Combeferre. He was the last to return to the café and already, most of the audience have supported their movement. Everyone was there but Eponine. No one had seen her since the raid and it made him worried that she might be in trouble yet again.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Joly inquired in a worried voice, "She's still recovering from her wounds. Do you think she'd been caught?"

"_Non-sens_!" Feuilly countered, "Eponine knows Paris more than anyone I know. She might be hiding somewhere and waiting for the right opportunity to return."

Enjolras sighed as he eased back on the chair. Feuilly might be right; she could just be hiding in the shadows and would return with the hat in her pocket and a grin on her face. Joly climbed back up with a wide grin on his face, "The blacksmith has agreed to supply us with weapons that we needed!" Cheers flooded the room and they finally saw the light of hope in the endless tunnel of doubt and fear. Another set of footsteps lingered on the staircase and it revealed Gavroche whose face was red from all his running, "Is 'Ponine here?"

They all looked around and Courfeyrac answered, "She just might be hiding somewhere _jeune_, perhaps she will come by when the sun had set?" he tried to console the street urchin. He made a face before he walked down and called out, "Alright, thanks…" Feuilly and Lesgles counted the spare patches and reported that only ten were left undelivered.

"We must make sure that they will join us at the barricades" Enjolras said, "Out of all the able bodied men, only thirteen had given their pledge to fight with us." They now have extra men and weapons but they still need medical supplies and cartridges. He was now worried that the men might lie around too much since they think they've secured the needed proceedings. It was far from over and now was not the time to be resting. They were lucky that it was only the foot soldiers that came to Javert's aid. If it had been the royal guards, they might all be hanged for treason.

Out of character, he hit on his thumbnail and continued to leaf through his mind about anything they still needed to do. The mortality rate had gone down but they also needed more supplies to help them carry on for more than a week. The getaway passage was already secured thanks to Bahorel and Feuilly while only Joly protest against it because it went through the open sewers. Cholera had been rampant these days and they sought protection against it if they were to travel through the water. And he still hadn't told them about Marius.

Courfeyrac voiced out his thoughts, much to his dismay; "Has anyone seen Marius? He was gone for three days now and it's unlike him to leave without any word." The law student took a deep breath to prepare himself, now was the time for him to tell the truth. He stood up with his palms open at the table, "Listen everyone, I have something to tell you…"

* * *

A/N: Awwww a cliffhanger… I regret nothing xD A story is always better when there's a bit of suspense in the end. Had anyone else noticed that I used Eponine's awkwardness and self-doubt from the book? Not much of E\E action sorry about that but there will be in future chapters! I promise! Anyways, read and review dear people. And remember, NO FLAMES.

-_Connard _: Bastard, a**hole

* "I am nothing like him!"


	7. Questions

A/N: Awwww no one liked the last chapter? :( Ah well, beggars can't be choosers. I'd like to thank **PhoenixGirl97** (Hahaha, sorry, I can't help it! The sooner I write, the sooner I can hear what you have to say :D ), **mrs.** **peetamellark 11755 **(Aww that made me blush ^_^ I hope you're enjoying this story!) and **bballlover101** (Je fais aussi!)

That's it. I can't really give any explanation why I was late to update, personal reasons and all... Back to business, I had a bit of a hard time writing this so forgive me if it's subpar. Please leave any comments, questions and suggestions via reviews and they will be noted. Constructive criticisms are welcome but please, no flames. Tune in every two to three days after I have acquired five reviews for an update.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Victor Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper.

* * *

**From Me, To You**

* * *

Eponine could not help but stare at Marius who was walking quite calmly through the crowded streets. His face was clear of any emotions and she couldn't even figure out what were the things playing in his mind that time. Javert had begrudgingly released her but gave a warning that if he should ever catch her again; it's off to the gallows with other prisoners. She bares her teeth at the smirking Émile before the Pontmercy out of the building. Half of her wanted to throw her arms around him and thank God that he was able to bail her out but the other half wanted to tilt her head down in shame that he had saw her in such a state. Thank heavens he didn't see her at the hospital then...

"How long?"

The Thenardier girl cocked her head to the side as he suddenly spoke, "How long have I what?"

"How long have you been in Les Amis de l'ABC?"

His tone was soft and though it had always gave her comforting warmth, it came off in a tone of disappointment or maybe even disapproval. Was he not pleased that she was willing to die for freedom as well? Was he not proud that she chose to fight with them instead of hiding in the shadows like her cowardly father? The man had been confusing her and she was supposed to be the closest he had as a best friend! He might be friends with everyone in the café and treated them as his brothers in arms but she's the only one he would ever trust his vulnerable side with. Had it been wrong of her to assume that maybe there would be something much deeper as a result of their closeness?

She did swore that she will never be hurt again but alas, this man had the power to break the wall of apathy she built since her adolescent years and he could single-handedly rebuild it at the same time. The thought made her want to weep and laugh at the same time.

Marius watched different emotions dance on her face. She always wore her heart on her sleeve but her sleeves were made with iron clad clothes filled with barbs and poisonous glares. He been the receiving end of her temper that one such event. It was the first time they met...

* * *

It was easily one of the coldest nights in Paris and young Marius was walking home from the university. It was exams week and he felt assured he would pass everything with flying colours. A loud shouting match was heard from a bar where he just walked past when suddenly- a large man was thrown out of the bar with his face wet with what seemed to be gin. The man yelled cruel and rude words towards the bar. Within a few moments, a couple of burly men from the bar walked out with several blunt objects used to bludgeon something... or someone.

The large man tried to duck from a chair that was thrown at him only to have it clip his shoulder. He howled in pain and proceeded to tackle the assailant. It took a minute before another man; it might have been the large man's companion, joined into the fight that escalated into a full blown brawl. Just then, a lanky man dressed in tattered rags with grease decorated his skin whistled and yelled "_C'est les cannettes de fil! Course!_" Everyone scrambled to hide, even Marius. He didn't know why he tried to hide; he wasn't even part of it in the first place! Maybe his feet moved in its own accordance and now, he didn't know where he was.

He was born and raised in Paris but he never wandered away from the main streets and avoided the alleys and shadowed paths altogether. Gangs and thieves roamed the city in the night and he was naught but a harmless college boy who had a few sous to spare. With that thought floating in his mind, he hid the golden ring he wore on his ring finger in the innermost pocket of his vest and cautiously weaved through the maze-like pathways. The smell was unpleasant and he could feel eyes boring on him with every step he took. With a turn to the left, he found himself facing a wall.

Marius shook his head and turned to see a man with a towering figure leering at him. Slowly, he approached him with a wheezed breathing, "Would you spare some francs for a poor soul?"

Marius felt a lump form in his throat when saw something silver glisten in the hand of the advancing man. It was a small knife and if he wasn't careful, his blood would be staining the blade. He felt his hands shake with fear; he couldn't overpower the man while he has a weapon and because he was a foot taller. He can't outrun him as well; not when he was lost in the alleys in the first place.

"I-I only have a couple of sous. You can have them all" he bargained.

The man shook his head and steeled his eyes, "A couple of sous won' keep me stomach full. Give me somethin' I could sell for money" Violent fits of cough exited his mouth but Marius chose to stay where he was, who knows if he was faking it or not.

The man neared the end of his patience as he lifted his hand and revealed the knife. "Now, either you give me wha' I wan' or I'll have to shove this to yer pre'ey face-"

"Gueulemer, father calls for you!"

A feminine voice with a rough edge entered the tense scene. The man cursed up a storm and hissed at the shadows, "Be off with you hussy! Can't you see that I'm in the middle of me job?"

"Either you let him go and be on your way or I shall tell my father that you simply dismissed his call" The threat seeped in her tone and miraculously, he heeded. He threw a dirty look at Marius and sneered, "Better pray for gratitude boy. You got lucky this time."

He dissolved into the shadows like a phantom and before he could even let out a sigh of relief, a woman close to his age walked out with a rather cross look on her face.

"Next time you won't be so lucky. Get out of here and return to where you belong" she growled. Marius studied her, long brown hair that was tangled, her clothes composed of a white shirt with the sleeves cut off and her skirt was a long brown fabric that may had been a table cloth. What caught his eye was the thin trail of blood that ran from her forearm.

"Your arm-"

"Just get out of here and never come back" she warned and made to leave him when he grabbed her by the shoulder. She retaliated by swinging a fist at him. He caught her wrist and found that it was frightfully thin; he could snap her like a twig if he applied pressure on it but she took his surprise to her advantage and stomped at his foot. It took every ounce of strength in him to keep himself from yelling bloody murder through the whole city. He held her tightly but his face was scrunched with pain and he could feel the stinging of tears he dare not shed.

"Let me go" she hissed like an angry cat. Pulling her wrist from him proved to be a challenge, especially when he stood a head taller than her. He gave her a soft look, something that caught her off guard and maneuvered her towards the corner where the moonlight was strong. She stared at him with piqued curiosity as he took out his clean handkerchief and carefully wrapped it around a shallow flesh wound she acquired a while ago.

"There, that should stop the bleeding" he quietly said as he knotted the ends of the cloth firmly but not enough to apply more pressure than needed.

"Why would you help a gamin?" she asked, flexing her arm to see if she could feel any pain. Her eyes looked up to his own; trying to decipher his strange actions towards her. Something dawned in her mind and it made her bare her teeth at him, "I have nothing that you would want in return monsieur" She spat the word as if it was venom and backed away from Marius.

To say that he was appalled was certainly an understatement. Never in his life had someone lashed out at him for doing a good deed and this woman practically accused him of doing it for something in return. His lip twitched; instead of being offended, he actually found her amusing. Her eyes still flashed with a warning and her crouched form aligned to attack if he would try and do something she didn't like.

"What is your name mademoiselle? Mine is Marius"

The girl blinked owlishly at the man- a gentleman to be exact. From the look of his clothes, he came from a well to do family that's why Gueulemer targeted him. And as she read the books that were partially sticking out of his bag, he might be a student of a university. It made her question as to why he was so pleasant to her when he was in a whole different social class than she. Surely his '_kind_' would steer clear of this type of place or he might have just stumbled his way unintentionally judging by his reluctance of her leaving him alone.

"Do you know the way to Rue Plummet? I seem to have lost my way."

Ah, so she was right about him accidentally stumbling in this part of the city. "Do you need my help to find your way back monsieur?" His reply was a bright smile that she had immediately deemed angelic. He dipped his head to a nod and tailed her when the gamin sprinted through the crisscrossing pathways.

Soon, he was standing near the rows of chateaus a block away from his own home. He turned around and found the girl staring at the mansion with a longing in her eyes. "I suppose this is goodbye then" she said stiffly. He shook his head and slowly took her hand and pressed his lips on her knuckles, causing her to stare and her face brightened with a reddish hue. "I have you to thank mademoiselle..."

"Eponine. My name's Eponine"

Normally she would have used a different identity to hide upon and protect herself but something about this man made her pull towards him. It was beyond his handsome face and his rich status. There was kind and protective air around him that made her feel safe. The sudden realization that she skipped the meeting made her stomach clench. No doubt Gueulemer had told Thenardier what she might be up to and it will infuriate him to no end. After all, most of what they took would ultimately be handed over to Thenardier whether it was money or anything of a value.

They parted ways under the light of the moon and even though her tardiness cost a welt on her back, she never regretted the decision of helping him. In pure coincidence, their paths crossed the following day in the square and from then on, they began their bond as close friends.

* * *

"Marius?"

His attention directed itself to the small girl next to him. It rattled him when he saw her being taken away by a cop and immediately went back to his loft to get some money. His grandfather would be angry if he were to find out that he got mixed up with the revolutionaries again but he can't just turn a blind eye from his best friend.

"How long have you joined... the group?" he questioned again. It pained him to exclude himself from his friends but Enjolras had closed the conversation and now branded him as a liability to the group. Was it wrong to follow your heart's desire? He knew that it has it repercussions and now he bore the consequences of his decision.

"The night you left for the girl" Eponine answered. Her voice was soft like a coo of a dove and he almost missed it. Though her voice was small, he couldn't deny the fact that it came out like a shout into his brain. Questions filled his entire being;

Why did Eponine join Les Amis?

Did he have something to do with her joining them?

Did he do something wrong?

"Why must you join them, did they ask you or was it you who came forward as a volunteer?"

"I offered them another solution. Enjolras accepted my conditions and allowed me to participate with the... activities under the protection that I'm now part of the group."

Her answer was simple and yet complicated at the same time; she couldn't tell him that the reason she joined was to distract herself from his ongoing relationship with the blond and how he unknowingly broke her heart. "I didn't know you were so swift to throw your life away", came his quiet voice. The answer made her stop. She felt her jaw slacken and an unnatural anger towards her friend sparked in her chest. How dare he say that when he was doing the exact same thing!

"Why do you think of such things?! I made this decision with the intention of coming out of it alive and I can manage myself just fine!"

"That's what you always say after your father beats you!"

"You know nothing about me! You're just a spoiled child who hides behind others!"

"You're the one that is hiding; you're lying to yourself as you have lied to everyone else!"

Now everyone was staring at them with conniving eyes and whispers were exchanged by those gossipy women who know nothing except talk about other people's business. She felt her hand itch to slap him; a natural reflex when someone had offended her. Anger and shame enveloped her entire being that she felt as if she could not breathe. Everything around them looked as if it all fell apart. She had never raised her voice to him no matter what the circumstances were and in return, he completely avoided any talk about her father's brutal actions.

They never once fought about anything, even trivial things that were usually the reason of friendly jabs and spats. It was then that Eponine realized that she might have overestimated the strength of their bond. Fights were used to test the bonds of friendship and since theirs were unchallenged, they didn't know how to react when it was presented to them despite how unconventional it was.

A strong voice in her mind told her to scream at him, shout and belittle that rich boy who had hurt and insulted her in front of other people. But another voice streamed into her sub consciousness, it was a small voice like that of a child's and it kept repeating the same sentence over and over.

"Run, run away. Don't let them hurt you, don't let them see the scars. Run away!"

She took the latter's advise and her feet followed the command. Marius' voice was but a dying echo behind her as she sprinted towards the east side of the city. She didn't know where to go, only letting her feet guide her way since her eyes were too blurry to see through. For a moment, she slowed her pace and looked around to see that she was a block away from Enjolras' home. It was only two in the afternoon and without a doubt, the owner has yet to come home since he will be at the café. She knew she have to make an appearance if they should miss her presence but she didn't want anyone to see her like this.

**-E-**

Combeffere wiped the sweat that steadily trailed between his eyes. He could sense the tension that was thick in the room and everyone had avoided looking at each other especially at Enjolras. So it was true, the Pontmercy had replaced them in favor of the woman's father's wishes. It didn't make any sense for the insightful man at all. Marius had been a stronghold of the organization; ever committed and passionate to the cause as much as everyone else that it was almost a blasphemy to even suggest such a thing. But Enjolras was not one to make up such stories especially if it would affect the progress of the barricades and their camaraderie. Integrity and loyalty was the foundation of their faction and if one would betray in any way, they will be cut off.

Grantaire was silent as he swirled the gin in his mug absent-mindedly, the news made him not so keen to drown himself on alcohol. Everyone, including himself had a grim expression on their face and one had yet to utter a single syllable. The atmosphere was akin to someone had died and no one knew how to comfort each other. Finally, it was Enjolras who broke the silence once more, "He had made his choice and we have to move on with our plan. As soon as Eponine returns, we shall enlist every single one of the volunteers and check our inventory. There should be at least a dozen of firearms but we lack cartridges and gunpowder." He switched back to his role of being the responsible and no-nonsense leader. No use walking around with their head down just because one had detached himself from the group. Quick footsteps echoed by the staircase and they saw Eponine gasping for breath and leaning on the rails, clutching her left side.

"'Ponine!" Courfeyrac ran towards her, his hands grasped her elbows and led her towards the chair, careful when pulling her when he saw a red dot on her clothes slowly spreading. "I must have opened some of my wounds" she wheezed and ended it with a cough.

"Where have you been?" Enjolras asked.

"Let her breathe will you?" Grantaire quipped as he handed a cup of, thankfully, water to the gasping girl. Enjolras couldn't believe his eyes, when did Grantaire evolve into a courteous and considerate man? He was never one to lift a finger except when he refills his mug and join in teasing others. Eponine gratefully took the cup and drank every last drop. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and whispered, "_Merci_"

He cupped his mouth near her ear and whispered, "Act tired so Enjolras won't force us to do any jobs anymore"

'And here I thought he was a real gentleman' Eponine snorted before she gave the cup to Grantaire who just winked at her with subtlety before seating back on his favorite chair. Courfeyrac nudged her and said, "Gavroche had been looking for you. As a matter of fact, where have you been?"

She didn't know what to say; the truth or just fabricate another story? Enjolras might notice though, he was sharp with consistency and no doubt he will ask questions. So she had to tell them, but that didn't mean she will also talk about what happened between her an Marius. "I was taken to the police. I was caught and I had a chat with Inspector Javert." Her answer elicited a surprised squawk from Bahorel and looks of concern among the Les Amis. Enjolras felt the corners of his lips curl down at the girl's expense. His eyes made a quick scan over her frame to check if she had acquired some form of injury but her clothes made it impossible to see anything other than an inch of flesh. Combeffere sighed and dared to ask, "Did they do something to you?" They dreaded to know the answer to the particular question. The police were less honorable behind their uniforms and their oath to protect the people as they themselves break the law they so proudly adhere.

Thankfully, Eponine shook her head before she hesitantly weaves a hand through her long hair, "He lets me off with a warning and nothing more."

Enjolras then released what seemed to be a tired sigh before he cleared his throat and swept a hand through his hair, "We have to make sure that this won't happen again. Javert was in a forgiving mood and we have to be grateful for that fact else Eponine would have suffered a worse plight". Everyone nodded in a somber manner which made her curious, why are they acting like this? Was it because she was caught? She almost jumped when she felt a hand on her forearm and she looked up to see Joly's fair face with a roll of white bandages in his hands. The man coaxed her into sitting on an old sofa on the farthest corner to treat her injury. It was lucky that she was wearing a shirt rather than her green dress lest it would be far more awkward to have him clean her wounds while lifting her skirt.

The leader strode towards the table and double-checked the list. It was double than what he had expected and although there had been obstacles, at least they did what they had to do and they reaped what they sowed. His friend placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Should we tell Eponine of Marius?" he asked, he fears for Eponine's reaction if they told her Marius had abandoned them for a woman. Her infatuation for the man was of common knowledge between the friends and they would even give knowing looks to one another whenever the gamin would follow him inside the cafe.

The blond hung his head whilst carefully piling the notes inside an envelope and sealed it with a melted candle wax by the flap, "I will be the one to tell her later. It would only distract her if she knew about this on later days. The only thing we needed to do right now is to focus on getting the required number of gunpowder, by casks if the heaven shall smile upon us." Combeffere nodded once in understanding before he joined the others who immediately opened a bottle of malt whiskey, despite Grantaire's disapproval of sharing.

* * *

"Marius? Is something the matter?"

Cosette bent to level with Marius' gaze as he sat on the park bench. Her clothes were a bit extravagant for a walk in a park but he didn't mind. The blond was in pins and needles when Marius suddenly ran towards the crowd during the demonstration a street away from where they were taking a stroll. He returned with a look of forlorn and even irritation. The man had been cautious about answering her questions and she had plenty of experiences of that kind of behavior with her papa. She smiled when he blinked in an uneven tempo before she giggled and sat back nest to him, "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Hm?"

The Fauchelevant girl sighed softly before she took his hands with hers, tucking them near her, "Is it because of me that you lost your friends?" she quietly asked. His face was void of any telling emotions and he kept his stare straight towards the point of nothingness that she concluded that there was no point of asking him if he wasn't willing to share. Cosette didn't like it when two people she cared for the most were keeping secrets from her. Her papa would keep her in the shadows and he dodged every question she asked regarding his past. His fade would contort that of pain and guilt that it made her feel the pain as well. And now Marius was reluctant to share his thoughts with her. Was it not a privilege to be with someone you love to share your secrets? Your dreams and fears? When she first saw Marius, she was immediately beguiled by the handsome man. Never had she saw a young man with gentleness and grace that most have not possessed and she felt as if she was lifted into the air with euphoria when he went to Rue de l'Homme Arme the night when they fled their old cottage.

But when he visited her yesterday, his eyes looked dead, glassy like the fishes that were sold in the markets. His lips were now often pursed and he looked tired. HE assured her he can handle the secret situation and told her not to worry which was impossible with the blond. Since he was her first (and only) love, she had no experience as to how to handle this kind of situation. Should she just turn a blind eye and just support him? Or should she hope that he will tell her? But she knew the latter option would never happen so just focus on another topic, yet she knew this trouble would be far from over.

In Rue de l'Homme Arme, Jean Valjean looked beyond the window and to the sky. Cosette was out with the Pontmercy boy and they were by an hour late. He couldn't help but feel alone in their apartment and while the boy had promised that he will severe his ties with the revolutionaries, he still might have danger shadowing his footsteps. 'Just like me' he concluded. He knew he had no right to shield Cosette away from the outside world because of his sins but he wanted to protect her from the cruel world as well. And the promise he made with the unfortunate Fantine in her deathbed was a contract that will always be in effect until his last dying breath.

* * *

"There, you're lucky it wasn't infected" Joly said an he tied the ends of the bandages together. Eponine struggled on keeping a chortle in her throat when he accidentally poked a certain ticklish spot on her side. "Thank you" she replied before he stood up and returned the medical supplies. She dropped her gaze to the floorboards and steadily recounted all the events that had unfolded. It was all too fast. One day she was pickpocketing someone and the next, she was fighting for their freedom. A pair of boots appeared before her and she fought the urge to groan in exasperation. She settled with a sigh and looked up to Enjolras with a patronizing smile on her face, "Is there anything that you require from me monsieur?"

Enjolras ignored her jab and aked, "Have you heard from Marius as of late?"

The question had caught her off guard and she soon felt everyone's gazes on hers.

"No... not since Lamarque's funeral" she carefully answered. She didn't know why but she felt reluctant to share it with him. Enjolras narrowed his eyes at her and she stubbornly held it with her own. It was he who first turned away and said, "When you encounter him in the future, you will not speak to him not will you answer any of his questions."

Her eyes widened at this and looked around to see them avoiding her gaze. She felt her breath quicken before she slowly turned to him and dared to ask, "Why?"

"Because he is no longer a member."

The information slowly sank in her mind. Millions of questions began to plague her and she didn't even acquire a single answer.

* * *

A/N: That's it. For those who had read the book, you will know who Gueulemer was. For those who didn't he was the 'original' Brujon in Patron-Minette; same features, same role, different name.

Tune in for future chapters. Don't forget to Read and REVIEW! No flames please.


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